


Come Again, Sweet Love Doth Now Invite

by chocobogoddess



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Messing with Mythology, Mollymauk Tealeaf Lives, Romance, Tarot imagery, Yearning, because that's how i roll, lots of longing looks, note tag and rating updates, pretty men making love, probably a bunch of kissin', so soft, very soft smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobogoddess/pseuds/chocobogoddess
Summary: Molly is given an opportunity in the next phase of his crazy existence: a chance to rejoin the Mighty Nein after they've been together for months and he's been...not around. Things have changed, and Molly has to play catch-up while navigating how he feels about this new, improved Caleb Widogast.Set sometime after the events of Ep 80-ish, with a departure from canon.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 68
Kudos: 165





	1. To Do Me Due Delight

A terrible knifing pain split his breastbone; agony that froze him from deep within and burned white-hot all at once. All was angry darkness, screams and smoke and blood...so much blood. Defiance fluttered from his lips along with his final breath, and a shockwave of grief from his friends crashed into him stronger than any flood. The world roared around him.

Until it didn't.

If he could still breathe, he would have gasped for air at the sudden stillness. He floated, or thought he did; no breeze ruffled his hair; no sound vibrated within his skull; no pain suffused his flesh. There were no fingers to flex, and no rasp of fabric on skin that might have grounded him. 

**_< Choose.>_ **

He wasn't ready for the soundless voice. Its whisper, louder than storms, deeper than an earthquake, terrified him, though somehow it comforted him as well. He felt a sense of awe that could not be measured by anything he'd ever known.

**_< Choose.>_ **

Light flared, the flicker of cards worn by thousands of shuffles, and then three glowing shapes separated from the deck to hover before him. Three cards, spectral in their form but achingly familiar, identical in design. He knew what game this was; he knew what to do next. Past, present, and future--he considered each.

The past was the past. If he chose this card, he might return to what he'd been once before, something dark and grinning, sharp and furious. Something that had led to a shallow grave in a lonely wood, destined to be forgotten. 

No thank you.

The present, well...that was more of the same, wasn't it? The same struggles, the same aimless path, the same uncertainties. Who had he been, anyway? A borrowed body and an untethered mind with no prospects, absently drifting in a dangerous world.

Tempting, but the present became the past too quickly for his liking.

The future gleamed more brightly, beckoning him with possibilities. Its glow blurred, shifted, and behind it he could see the outlines of so many more cards, more than were in any deck he could imagine.

_**< Choose.>** _

But he'd already chosen; the outline of the future already grew larger, or perhaps he moved closer, or it moved toward him, and then it really didn't matter because everything rushed together in one great explosion of light and sound...

And somewhere, too large to comprehend, a pleased smile.

***

This time, when Mollymauk came to himself, there was no dirt in his mouth or under his nails. He might have just come from the bathhouse, his skin clean and his clothes as well-kept as they'd ever been. Beneath his boots lay broad, smooth flagstones, and far above him, the night sky glittered with stars. A slow turn to take in his surroundings made him aware of street lamps, more houses, and the faint sounds of a city that rarely slept. Somewhere to his left, a palace towered in the distance, while to his right, the streets sloped down to other districts, equally lit for night.

He stood just inside the gate of an impossible house, one that matched others on the street of the neighborhood that surrounded him, but for the gigantic green _tree_ growing out of the top of a turret. He could have laughed at its absurdity, how it was laced with dozens of glowing lanterns like a bistro, only high above the roofs of its neighbors. Stained glass on the lower level hid the goings-on within, though warmed by enough lights that they spilled their colors across the tips of his boots and the path between him and the carved wooden front door. Voices rose and fell inside, laughter and bickering that reminded him of the kind of camaraderie he'd once enjoyed.

 _So this is the future,_ he thought, and walked forward to knock.

The sounds from inside the house ceased, and several low voices spoke before a set of footsteps approached. Molly suppressed a shiver of anticipation. Closed doors, like wrapped gifts, meant possibility. Once opened, he would know what awaited him on the other side. He hoped, all of a sudden, that he would know the face, and that it would be someone friendly.

It was not someone he knew. A pale firbolg, paler and more lanky than any firbolg he'd ever seen, gazed quizzically down at him. A set of chimes jingled at the motion of the door, and the scent of tea and something like dinner wafted over Molly.

The firbolg spoke, his voice gentle and deep. "Well, hello there." His eyes narrowed, a spark of recognition, though Molly could not for the life of him recall ever meeting such a creature. "I think you ought to come in."

He opened the door wide, and behind him, a flurry of voices asking about their visitor changed to a ragged chorus of shocked delight, culminating in one single, blessedly familiar expression of outrage and wonder:

"What the _SHIT,_ Molly?!"

Ah. The future was _home_.


	2. To See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, Zone of Truth is a pretty good spell, you guys.

The firbolg took his arm and drew him into the house amid the sounds of chairs being knocked over in haste, bodies racing to meet him in a riot of color and warmth and _gods_ but it was too much. The suave greeting that automatically sprang to mind died on his tongue and dissolved into a sob. They were _all_ there, all healthy and strong and _alive_. He tried to answer questions from every corner, tried and failed and laughed.

Jester and Nott reached him first, wrapped arms around him, hugging him until he could hardly breathe, and he sank to his knees with them, peppering kisses on their heads. Beau wasn't far behind, though she forewent the tackle and simply grasped his outstretched hand in a fierce, emotional grip. Fjord and Yasha stood at the edge of the fray, both more reserved, but he could feel their happiness as surely as the rest. 

Molly swept the room for the last member of their group. He met the eyes of the firbolg, who watched the reunion with a faint knowing smile, but there was no one else in the room. The others faded from his mind briefly as a little cold sliver of worry worked its way under his ribs.

Where was the wizard? Where was Caleb?

As if he'd heard the words spoken, the firbolg gave a little start, then a nod. He moved to the base of the stone stairway, Molly's eyes following him the whole time.

"Mister Caleb," the firbolg called up in his ringing voice. "You might want to come join us down here for a moment." One side of the smile tugged up. "Got something you might wanna see."

" _Ja, was,_ Cadeuceus? Did I hear the door chime?" 

Molly stilled; even above the chatter of the others, that soft Zemnian accent cut straight through him. And the man who appeared on the stairs, book in hand, was both the same and very much not the same one he remembered.

The worry melted into nothing, to be replaced by a flare of relief. Molly took in the shoulders that no longer stooped, the simple yet finer clothes, the clean and much longer hair. Caleb was still slender but no longer gaunt, still serious but less...haunted than he had been. As Molly had suspected during their travels, a handsome man lay under that once-filthy exterior.

Caleb stopped before the last stair, peering at the tangle of the Mighty Nein on the floor of the main room as he tried to make sense of what exactly was going on. When his vivid blue eyes found Molly's, however, they widened, and he stumbled back a step as he stifled a curse. He caught himself on the bannister and managed to keep a hold of his book, but a lock of that ginger hair came loose from its tie and added to the flustered image.

" _Was ist--? Mollymauk??_ " A shaking hand tucked the hair behind his ear as he regained his balance and descended the last couple of stairs to join them. Two small lines appeared between his brows, and the blue gaze darkened. "It is...it cannot be."

A different kind of worry bloomed. Not that Molly had expected the kind of exuberant welcome that he got from Jester, but surely Caleb would be glad to see him? They had been friends, at least, hadn't they?

At _very_ least.

"Stand back," said Caleb, in a commanding tone that Molly had never heard from him before. He bit off each word. "Mollymauk is dead. Until we find out what fiend wears his face, stand _back_."

Gently, Molly extricated himself from the embrace of his friends and stood. "I'm...me, Caleb," he began, "I can't say how or why, but..."

"I can cast Zone of Truth," Jester interjected, hands clasped in appeal as she turned from Caleb to Molly and back. "That can settle things, can't it?"

Molly shuddered. "I have no fond memories of the last time I was subjected to that particular spell. But if it'll put your minds at ease, I'll do it. I suppose it's better to be asked this time than to have it forced upon me like it was in Zadash."

Caleb studied him for just a heartbeat too long for comfort, but then he nodded. "That is agreeable. Perhaps if we could sit at the table, then?"

A minute later, he found himself at one end of the trestle table with the Mighty Nein arranged along each side. Caleb took up a seat at the opposite end and ignored the cup of tea that Cadeuceus set by each person's place. For his part, Molly kept his eyes on Caleb's while he swept the cup up and drank it in one go, only to regret it at once. Delicious, yes, but _fuck_ that was hot. He tried to hide the pain under a cough. Yasha, on his right, put out a hand as if to smack him on the back, but then seemed to think better of it. Molly's heart broke a little to see the conflict in her expression; roughly, he clenched a fist and banged it on the table.

"Let's get this over with," he rasped around his burned tongue, "I miss you assholes."

Did everyone relax a little? 

Caleb stood and braced his arms on the table. "Jester, please cast the spell." If there was any softening of his demeanor, it didn't reach his voice. Jester nodded and, with a whisper of regret, twirled a finger in the air and pointed at Molly.

The sizzle of magic traveled over his arms, up his shoulders and the back of his neck. It made the little hairs on his skin raise involuntarily before it settled into his throat. Molly took a deep breath and, mimicking Caleb's posture, placed both of his hands flat on the table as well. "Go ahead."

"What is your name?" The words came out harsh.

"Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service." He tried for a sardonic smirk but failed. "Founding member of the Mighty Nein."

"Pardon me, Caleb," Nott spoke up, her voice shrill and welcome as ever with the particular note she saved only for the wizard. "We need to ask him stuff that only he would know." Her shrewd yellow eyes slid to Molly, and with a superior tilt of her head, she drummed her fingers and challenged, "What did you catch me doing when we first met?"

Caleb frowned. "That is not what the spell is for," he tried to say, but Molly spoke over him with his reply.

"Hah, you mean the time you were going through Fjord's bag! You wanted the letter to the Soltryce academy." He chuckled. "You tried to trade me a vial of acid for a blank piece of paper."

He was rewarded with a wide, toothy grin. Nott crossed her arms and sat back with the air of someone having been bested in a game of chess. "Verrry good. No further questions."

"What kind of pastry do you like?" Jester demanded. Caleb rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Molly sighed. "I like them all, darling, as you well know." he said fondly, and Jester sat back down, satisfied.

"Fuck this basic shit." Beau leaned in. From where he sat, Molly could see the shimmer of a jade tattoo against her skin, and a familiar ornate curling design over her shoulder caught his eye. She gestured with her cup. "You once told me your greatest lie." 

Molly's mind scrambled to come up with the memory; he had so many stories, and he wasn't sure what he'd told anyone at any particular moment. The spell wouldn't let him lie now, _per se_ , but he wasn't sure if he could recall exactly which story he'd given her.

But that wasn't what she wanted to know. "What did you tell me _afterward_?"

"Oh, damn," muttered Fjord, catching the others' attention. His accent had changed from its former drawl, Molly noted. "That was the thing you talked about at his--well, his funeral."

"You had a funeral for me?"

"Yeah." Beau looked down at where some of her tea had sloshed out of the cup. The others went quiet and solemn; even Jester lost a little of her effervescence. Caleb's face was a mask, unreadable. "After we got everyone back from the Iron Shepherds, and we got Cadeuceus to join up, we made sure to bury you properly. But before that, right after the fight, we all kinda stuck around and said a few words. Didn't feel right to just leave you there."

"I remember," said Nott, "It sort of became our theme, I think."

Beau shook her head. "So anyway, yeah. You told me a story and then you gave me the best compliment I've ever gotten. From anyone."

"I'm touched." Molly tried to play it off casually, but he had a hard time disguising the hitch in his throat. He was fairly certain that his first death hadn't garnered a proper funeral, so the idea that these friends had given him one was...special. It was hard to maintain his flippant attitude when what he really wanted to do was hug them all and maybe have a good cry. A long silence stretched between them. "I did tell you that, didn't I? That you're a good friend and a terrible enemy."

"Yeah." A hint of a smile. "Okay, yeah. It's you."

He mirrored her expression. With each question, he felt a little less apprehensive, but the spell still fluttered in his blood. He looked to Yasha, who hadn't said anything yet, but the weight of her hand on his shoulder let him know that she was no longer in doubt. So he turned his gaze to Caleb once more, and, feeling bolder, allowed himself a long, raking glance of appreciation, punctuated with his sauciest smirk. He needed to break the somber mood that had fallen over the group. "Anything else you want to know?" He purred, teasing lightly. Caleb only sighed and shook his head.

"Oh yeah!" Jester cried, her eyes dancing. "Don't waste the spell, you guys! Ask him stuff! He can't lie! Quick--who do you want to bone? Is it--"

The spell released him, and Molly laughed. "Too late, dear. I'm afraid I can avoid your questions again." Over Jester's and Nott's pouts and the growing chatter from the group now that their suspicions were allayed, Molly kept his eyes on Caleb, who had sat back down and would not quite meet his eyes. 

Then Yasha thumped him a little too hard on the back, and Jester hugged him, and Beau punched him in the shoulder and told him he was a dick for putting them all through hell and worry, and all he could do was laugh and laugh, his heart light.


	3. (To See) To Hear

They retired to another room--the "Happy Room", they called it--and there, by a cozy fire and surrounded by pillows, blankets, and more of Caduceus's tea, Molly let them regale him with tales of their exploits. He listened, rapt, to the story of how they "accidentally" stole a pirate ship; how they had faced and destroyed the cult of an evil god; how they had somehow become heroes of the Dynasty. Also by accident. 

Caleb had been responsible for that, it seemed. Molly found his gaze landing on the other man over and over again, still marveling at the changes in him. 

To be certain, the others had changed. Nott no longer hid behind bandages, revealing a strange beauty from which her goblin face could not detract. Fjord was visibly stronger, more refined, and Jester had lost a little of her former softness in favor of lean muscle. Beau had the bearing of authority--something Molly had never expected to see--and Yasha, though still quiet and strong, possessed both a sadness and a lightness that he promised himself he would explore when they had some time alone to catch up. He had no reference for Caduceus, but the firbolg added a grounded calm to the group that had been missing.

Ah, but _Caleb._

Warmed by the tea and the company, Caleb seemed to relax a little, seated on a pillow on the raised stone hearth, arms resting on long legs and twirling an empty teacup between his fingers. He wore a close-fitting black shirt under his ever-present book holster. It covered his arms, Molly noticed, but like Nott, he no longer wore bandages to hide his scars. He seemed pensive, content to let the conversation wash over him, within it but not part of it.

Molly wanted to hear his voice again. And so, during a lull after a story about Jester's mother, he spoke up.

"What about you, Caleb?" He asked, all innocence, "No stories to share?"

Caleb's head snapped up; his brow drew down. "I--ah, _ja_ , well, I was there for all of these--"

"He's being modest," Nott interrupted as an aside. "We would have died a dozen times without Caleb."

The tiny smile he only used on Nott tugged at the corner of Caleb's mouth, accompanied by a softening of his expression. "What story do you want, then?" He asked quietly.

Fjord, suprisingly, was the one to suggest. "You could tell how you saved our asses at Uthodurn," he offered. "That was--"

"It was pretty crazy, is what it was!" Jester burst in. "Molly, you should have seen it! He--"

Molly held up a hand, laughing again. It felt so _good_ to laugh. "Let him tell the tale, sweetheart." He tilted his head and mock-toasted the wizard with his teacup. "Come now, regale me with your heroics."

How lovely to see the flush that colored Caleb's cheeks, that crept up his neck. Pale skin might have its drawbacks, but the ability to gauge a human's mood by the path of their blood flow was such a delight. 

But Caleb took a deep breath and nodded, squared his shoulders. " _Ja_ , fine. Though I hung back for most of that battle, you recall. I only kept up a Tiny Hut while you all enacted your plans."

"You teleported us out of there while the dragon tried to eat us," Nott supplied. "That was the scariest moment of my life, I think."

"Yeah," Beau added, "I still think about those teeth trying to bite through."

The entire group--Yasha included--shuddered. Molly glanced up at her. "Wow. That must have been frightening."

She nodded slowly. "It was. It really was."

Amid a chorus of agreement, the conversation shifted to other tales, other memories, and though he didn't say anything about it, Molly noticed Caleb going quiet once more, content again to watch his friends and simply exist in the background as he always did.

***

The hot tub was a marvelous thing. Someone suggested they move there once the stories died down, and Molly perked right up at that.

"You have a hot tub. In your house."

Caduceus gave him one of his slow, easy smiles. "We were already building the tower and the tree. Figured we might as well add the hot tub." He tilted his head as if remembering something. "Oh, yeah. I think they named it after you, actually."

Now that, Molly decided, was the absolute best thing he'd ever heard in his entire life. "It would be rude of me not to partake, then, wouldn't it?"

Caduceus chuckled and waved a hand to show him the way. "I'm pretty sure that it would break some kind of etiquette rule somewhere, yeah."

Over the course of the evening, Molly had decided he liked the firbolg quite a lot. Caduceus's calm demeanor and Molly's own rakish personality might be at odds, but they shared a somewhat fatalistic sensibility, which he supposed made them understand each other on some level. Sure, in some ways, Caduceus was his "replacement" among the Nein, but they couldn't be more different people. 

And besides, no one could truly replace Mollymauk Tealeaf. That much was certain. If only they'd met _before_ everything went to hell. Would have been nice to have another cleric around the last time he died.

Molly was enchanted by the little hot spring they'd built at the base of the tower. Roots from the tree above turned the space into a magical grotto, and mage lights dotted the room to lend a candlelike glow. Jester pushed a wine glass into his hand, and they all dangled their feet in the swirling water or stripped down to underclothes to soak up to their necks. 

Molly fully planned to experience the whole thing at some point, but for once in his life--in any of his lives--he found himself growing tired. He sipped his wine slowly, savoring it as he let the water lap at his ankles and calves, his boots placed haphazardly behind him.

Despite his best efforts, he failed to hide his yawn. From her spot across the pool from him, Yasha called him on it. "You should get some rest. I think you've had a long day."

He shrugged. "I've had longer."

To his surprise, it was Caleb who spoke next. "It cannot have been easy to be reborn and interrogated and then to party. Come." he drew his legs up out of the pool and then unfolded to dry them off with a nearby towel before rolling his pant legs down properly. "We have a guest room. I will show you where it is, and we can all talk more tomorrow."

It was the most he'd heard out of Caleb since that afternoon, and Molly honestly didn't feel like arguing. He _was_ tired. A chorus of goodnights and "we love you" and "welcome back, Molly" rose up from the others, and Molly felt a peculiar warmth in his heart. "Goodnight, Lovelies," he said, encompassing them all.

He took the proffered towel and braced himself with a hand on Caleb's shoulder to dry his own legs off. Caleb stiffened under the sudden contact, but did not move away. Instead, he waited for Molly to finish and to grab his discarded boots, and only then did he step out of range, leading the way up the tower steps.

***

They moved wordlessly through the house, up to the level of the main rooms and then up one more to the bedrooms. Molly took note of the layout only enough to see where they were going, then spent the rest of the time studying his escort.

From behind, Molly took in the broader set to Caleb's shoulders, the lean taper of his waist, the legs that no longer shuffled or stalked like a frightened animal. Xhorhasian clothing suited him; it skimmed the planes of his body instead of hiding it the way Caleb's Dwendalian coat had. 

Molly found himself a bit startled at the force of his own interest. He'd always liked Caleb; it had been incredible fun to flirt with the shy human wizard when they'd last adventured together. Part of the fun came from watching that blush or those wide blue eyes whenever Molly had stood a little too close or sent him a knowing smile. It had never been too serious, though if Caleb had shown some return interest, Molly would have been happy to see where things might go. But he also would never have pressed for anything, either. It had always seemed like Caleb was the kind of person who wasn't in a good place for any kind of romantic involvement, casual or no. 

But this new Caleb was ticking boxes that the old Caleb hadn't, and Molly had a feeling things were going to be different this time around.

"Here."

Molly almost ran into Caleb, who had stopped at a wooden door much like all the others. A comfortable, if sparse, room lay beyond. He muttered an apology, then let himself look Caleb in the eye.

Another box ticked: Caleb was the same height as him. Molly usually wore boots with heels, and Caleb had always hunched as if expecting a blow; but now, with bare feet and a straighter posture between them, they had somehow evened out. 

Good height to kiss him, his brain supplied.

"I, uh, thanks." Molly stumbled over his words in an effort to distract himself from going down that path at the moment. "This is--great. Really." He'd always had the gift of the gab, but all his bravado felt like it had been knocked out of him. Yasha was right--he was exhausted, though he wasn't sure that was the whole issue right now.

Caleb frowned in concern. "Mollymauk, are you all right?" 

"Right as rain," he replied, giving a half-hearted thumbs-up. He tried not to think about how much he'd missed that sandpaper voice, the breathy way Caleb's words seemed forced from within, the light Zemnian accent that softened or deepened with his mood. The way Caleb said his _name_.

What was _happening_ to him?

But what he said aloud was, "I am of the opinion that yes, it is exhausting to come back to life after gods know how long, and I think I just need a little shuteye. Although--" he swallowed, suddenly dry, but soldiered on, "--a little company is always appreciated." He hoped his wink would sell the bit. Yep, just good old Mollymauk Tealeaf, making the moves on anything that breathes. Ha ha. Yeah.

He only got the blush as a reward for his clumsy attempt at his old flirtation as Caleb cleared his throat and stepped away toward another door across the hall. "Goodnight, Mollymauk," he said, hand on the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder, that longer red hair shielding his blue eyes from view. He seemed about to say something more, but thought better of it as he entered his room and shut the door. 

Molly stared at the space where Caleb had been just a moment ago, replaying things over in his mind until he couldn't make sense of anything anymore. With a sigh, he closed his own door and tossed his boots into a corner, then flopped onto the bed, asleep before he could even crawl under the covers.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAID there would be yearning, didn't I? 
> 
> Also, I keep hearing about a Widomauk server on Discord and I cannot find it anywhere. Please, if you're a member, hit me up on there as "Chocobo Goddess#9814" because I need to scream about them with like-minded folks. <3


	4. (To Hear)

He had three dreams.

The first was a replay of the night, though from a funny distance, as if he was watching himself and everyone else from above, unseen and unnoticed. Several things struck him: the way the whole troupe seemed to lean forward as a unit; their comfort with each other, the slight distance between him and the others, as if he were surrounded by an invisible shield. Funny, he hadn't clocked that at the time. He also--for once--felt like his appearance was out of place, as if they'd all moved on and grown into themselves, and he was merely the same old Molly. Which made sense, but it  _ hurt _ in a way. It was always his thing, after all, to be the one who was most comfortable in his own skin. He felt shabby, almost, like a carnival souvenir forgotten on a shelf. But then his focus shifted to one of the Mighty Nein--Caleb--and that momentary discomfort drifted away. For now he could see how intense those blue eyes watched him, how sharp, and the relief that flashed across Caleb's freckled visage so quickly as to be unseen by anyone, when at last they all were satisfied with Molly's answers.

Strange, how he'd thought Caleb so withdrawn before. Why was he so invested in Molly now? Had that always been there, unseen and unnoticed under the grime and rounded shoulders, the refusal to just look _up_ for once? Still waters, though, and all that, perhaps.

The second dream was of a waterfall of cards. His cards, of course, the incomplete deck covered in his distinct artistic hand. All of the cards were there, of course, but he could see which ones he'd completed and the few he'd only sketched out, numbered and named and some bordered, but lacking their symbolic art. He'd planned to finish them eventually; perhaps now he could.

**_< CHOOSE.>_ **

That voice, that massive, overwhelming voice reverberated through his whole being. The cards slipped past his view, tumbling through space and twisting in a lazy dance. He wanted to catch them, tried to gather them like falling leaves, but they evaded his grasp and simply whispered just out of reach until only one remained.

**_< CHOOSE.>_ **

Molly's fingers touched it at last, and he flipped it around to see which one he'd caught. It was--

The third dream came, this one the sweetest and all too short. Warmth, a bone-deep satisfaction. He was the moon, reflecting the light of the sun, his face always turned toward the thing that gave him breath and life and peace.

***

Molly's sleep came rudely to an end at an enthusiastic banging on his door. He groaned in annoyance, mourning the loss of the last shreds of that final dream. Groggily, he raised his head and propped himself up on his elbows. He'd slept in his clothes, it seemed, and at some point pulled the top blanket around himself in a haphazard fashion. He yawned. "I'm up, I'm up."

"I'm coming in, hope you're deeee-cennnnt!" Jester sang, with barely a breath before the door swung open to let her bounce in with a pile of folded clothes in her arms. Balanced on top was a tray with a steaming teacup and a plate of two buttered pieces of muffin, neatly sliced down the center. She deftly tossed the clothes into his lap with one hand and set the tray down with the other, then stood back with hands on hips. "Good morning!"

He shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. "Some things never change. Is that for me?" He reached for the tea.

She plopped down onto the bed beside him and helped herself to one of the muffin pieces, grinning as she took a bite. "Of course! We put together some new clothes for you if you want them while we get these ones cleaned." She pinched the fabric of his shirt sleeve and shook it a little. "Plus, we're in Xhorhas, and the clothes are pretty different here. You look like you just stepped out of the Empire, and that's not a good look around here if you know what I mean." Her voice flattened into the low aside before springing back up again. "So I took some of Caleb's stuff that he had to spare, 'cause you guys are the closest in size."

Molly raised a brow over the rim of his teacup. "These are his?" Funny, that tiny thrill that went through him at the thought of wearing something of Caleb's. He did frown at the colors, though. Caleb needed to start trying something other than black or brown.

Though last night, black had been a  _ good  _ look with that red hair...

He finished the cup of tea quickly and set it down, taking the second muffin half before Jester could steal that one, too. She eyed him but aside from the quirk of her lips, said nothing to hint that he'd given anything away.

"He won't mind. He's got, like, a bunch of the same kinda outfit. So get dressed! We already had breakfast, and we've got to talk about stuff like what you want to do, where you've been, all that kind of thing. You know?"

"I don't know how much I can say about...any of that. Not yet," he amended, seeing her worried frown. "This is all just...new. But we'll figure it out, right?"

She studied him a moment longer, then tilted her head in a kind of nod as she picked up the tray. "Right. Come down soon, okay?"

Molly waved a hand. "Be right there. And Jester?"

She paused at the door, one hand on the frame. "Hmm?"

"I missed you."

A tightness he hadn't noticed before left her shoulders. She smiled at him, warm and real. "I missed you, too," she replied softly, without any exaggeration. "We all did."

He flopped back down once he heard her footfalls depart. The ceiling of his room was plain, plaster broken up by heavy wooden beams, and there was no decoration beyond a faded landscape painting on a wooden board that had been hung on the wall. It wasn't very good, but he liked it for that reason. It was real, he was real, here in this world. There were so many questions that he knew the Nein would want answers to, and he had none. What was he doing there? Why was he alive? How? He was happy to be there,  _ happy _ ; he wanted to be with them all. But what did his life mean now? 

Molly needed the answers just as much as they probably did. Perhaps they would be willing or able to help him figure it out. The reunion had been lovely, but it was time to get to work. Rising from one grave was one thing. Rising twice? That meant something, but damned if he knew what.

He rubbed his face roughly with both hands, then forced himself to sit up and change his clothes.

***

Xhorhasian fashion might be a little austere for his liking, but Molly made it his own with some help from his old outfit. A silk turquoise scarf became a sash, and his boots fit nicely over the slim-cut trousers. A smaller vivid pink scarf became a cravat. He had nothing to brush his hair, so he ran his fingers through the wavy curls a few times and adjusted the jewelry on his horns until he was satisfied. He considered adding his coat over the ensemble, but thought better of it. That image from one of the dreams still stuck with him, how out of place he seemed among those he called his dearest friends. So he put the coat carefully on the bed, squared his shoulders, and made his way downstairs to the main room.

A chorus of "good morning" greeted him when he came down the stairs. Caleb coughed on his tea, which Molly found  _ extremely _ interesting, considering how the action was paired with that fetching blush. He decided to lean into it.

"Well?" He flung his arms wide and spun in a slow circle. "What do you think? Am I the very picture of Xhorhasian manhood?"

Nott whistled and Jester clapped, while Beau elbowed Caleb in the side. Fjord shook his head, laughing, and Yasha nodded in her serious way. Even Caduceus looked pleased. Caleb, once he recovered, cleared his throat.

"It, ah, you have made it very stylish,  _ ja _ . Does it fit well enough?"

Oh, to hear that accented voice again! The blue eyes were veiled and downcast as if his tea were the most important thing, but that intensity was still there; Molly hadn't imagined it just in his dream. 

As if his mind wasn't awash with  _ feeling _ , Molly shrugged. "I had to cut into the seat of the pants, I'm afraid," he said, twisting his hips to show where his tail emerged from the trouser seam, "but the rest fit fine." As he took a chair, he propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. "I didn't expect the extra room in the shoulders, though. Someone has been working out."

He was rewarded with a deeper blush from his target and a guffaw from Beau. But what might have become a delicious opportunity to tease never came, as Jester stilled and put her hand out, causing everyone to quiet down. Molly watched with interest as she nodded along to something only she could hear.

Then her face cleared. "It's Essek!" she exclaimed. "He says he really misses us, you guys, and he's got some time free so he really really wants to hang out with us. I'm gonna say it's cool, okay?" And without waiting for a reply from the others, she said to the air, "Yeah, come on over! Bring wine and stuff. We've actually got a cool thing to talk about with you. Wanna go in our hot tub?"

She grinned proudly at Fjord, who had been counting on his fingers. "Twenty-five, Jester!" He said, holding up both hands. "Right on target."

"Ohmygod, Molly, you're gonna meet Essek!" Jester's voice became a squeal. "He's really cool and he floats and stuff."

"Eh, he's okay," said Beau. "Kinda stuffy, but not a bad guy."

"I think he's just lonely." That was from Yasha, though the others nodded.

Beau stood up from the table and stretched. "He's got the hots for Caleb, too."

Molly felt his tail whip hard into the side of his chair. "Oh?" He asked in as even a tone as he could muster, biting the inside of his cheek against the stinging pain in his tail.

But Caleb sighed. "Don't say such things, Beau. He is a good friend and a fellow wizard. That is all. I think to imply otherwise would make him uncomfortable, and we need his help and cooperation when we are here in Xhorhas." The declaration made Molly feel better, though this Essek person wasn't starting out super well in his books. 

And...that was going to be a  _ lot _ to unpack later, when Molly could think about why exactly he felt jealousy over someone he'd never met, about someone he'd never thought he wanted.

The guy was a wizard, anyway. He was probably some old bald guy with a hooked nose and a squint. It'd be fine.

***

It was not fine. Not at  _ all _ .

Essek showed up with the requested bottle of wine less than an hour after the message, and Molly was glad he'd been sitting down when the door opened because he'd have fallen on his ass if not. Essek was  _ gorgeous _ . He had that perfect purple-midnight-sky skin and white hair that was particular to the Drow, with fine sharp features and violet eyes. And the man  _ floated above the ground _ , for the gods' sake! The hands that passed the wine to Nott for decanting were long-fingered and manicured. And the faint smile he gave to the group suddenly warmed when it landed on Caleb.

Worse, Caleb greeted him with a smile of his own, clasping hands and offering a soft, " _ Guten tag _ , Essek," before finally,  _ finally _ turning to introduce Molly.

It took all of Molly's performance training to keep his composure, to keep the unaccustomed spike of venom from his voice as he strode forward to offer his hand. "Mollymauk Tealeaf," he said grandly, "Founding, former, and reinstated member of the Mighty Nein."

Essek hesitated, then took his hand to shake it firmly. Gods above and below, even his handshake was perfect. Soft but strong hands, cool and dry and confident. Just as polished as the rest of him. "Well met, Mister Tealeaf," he said in an accented voice that slightly wanted to roll its Rs, "I have heard stories about you from your friends." He glanced at Jester, then back to Molly. "I assume this is what you all wanted to talk about?"

" _ Ja _ , my friend, we could use some of your insight." Caleb's own accent, even directed elsewhere, was a cool balm over Molly's weirdly frayed nerves. "There must be some explanation, some reason why this has happened. Our companion here has returned from--" he stumbled on the word, "--from death. We wish to understand this, if not how, then at least why."

Essek let go of Molly's hand and descended to the floor, which revealed that he was an inch or two shorter than Molly or Caleb. Oddly, that offered some small comfort. "In matters of reincarnation, 'why' is often the harder question to answer. But I am happy to lend my aid in any way I can. This is an interesting case." He looked Molly up and down, and Molly wasn't sure if it was clinical or carnal or  _ both _ , but he felt like he was being sized up for a meal. Essek had that air about him, something dangerous below the surface. But when he returned his attention to Caleb, so did the warmth. "Why don't we sit and discuss this situation over that wine?"

  
  
  



	5. To Touch

Essek had the gall to look _comfortable_ among the Mighty Nein, gathered once more in the Happy Room. He sipped from his glass and took up an entire half of one couch beside Caleb, one ankle crossed over his knee in a manner that said 'this is my space', leaving Molly no choice but to sit across from them. 

_No matter_ , Molly told himself, as Yasha and Jester settled on either side of him. They bolstered his spirits, which helped him speak up first.

"I know we didn't really talk about how I got here yesterday," he began. "The thing is...the thing is, I don't rightly know for certain. There was a lot of pain, and then there was a lot of nothing. And then...I got some kind of choice. I saw my cards." He spread his hands. "Or maybe that's just a dream I had. It felt like a dream."

"Cards?" Essek inclined his head in query. 

"I had a deck of tarot cards that I used for fortune-telling back in the circus." Molly's fingers itched for them, recalling the scuffed finish and softened edges from thousands of shuffles.

"OH!" Jester exclaimed, startling everyone, even Essek, Molly noted. "I have them! Oh my gosh, I can give them back to you!" She dug into a pocket on the battered pink haversack that was never too far from her reach; when her hand emerged, it clutched a familiar bedazzled drawstring bag. A few of its paste gems had fallen off and the thing looked even more threadbare since he'd seen it, but it was _his_. She placed it into his waiting palm with gentle reverence. "See, I knew you would want them again one day."

He could have kissed her, and so he did, a happy smooch on her temple, deftly avoiding her horns. "You are a marvel, _macushla_. I thought I'd never see these again." Even as he spoke, he withdrew the deck into the light and fanned the cards, automatically shuffled them in a few different ways, enjoying the texture of the well-loved heavy paper. When he looked closer, he realized there were new images among the old. 

"I hope you don't mind," Jester said shyly, "But I started to draw the ones you were missing. I have been teaching myself how to read them."

"They're perfect," he said, and meant it.

Essek cleared his throat, a sound that added another mark on the mental tally that Molly had begun keeping since the bloody man had appeared. He'd seen Essek's perfection crack a couple of times so far; if that meant keeping him off his high horse, Molly would take it. But then the Drow spoke.

"You used them for divination?" Essek's smooth voice contained an unveiled note of interest, and for the first time, Molly could see why Caleb seemed so comfortable with him. They were both scholars, after all, and the promise of new knowledge was their drug of choice. "That would be a powerful connection to fate, would it not?"

Molly shrugged. "I suppose so. But they're not affiliated with any god or goddess, you see? I just learned how to cold-read people and to use the symbols of each card to tailor a reading to the customer. Nothing magical about it."

"It is possible," Caleb said, frowning at his glass of wine. He glanced up at the others when they all waited for him to go on, which prompted him to add, "Essek and I have been looking into the ties between time and fate. The main religion here in Xhorhas is that of the Luxon, and its holy symbol--" Here, Essek made a derisive sound, and Caleb adjusted his description. "--A device, then. One that aids in the continuation of lifetimes from one to another, and the shaping of one's destiny." He looked straight at Molly then, as if there was no one else in the room. "The Dodecahedron we carried for all those weeks," he said softly, "The Mote of Possibility."

Molly shivered. That thing had been just a way to add a little luck to their day, hadn't it? Each of them had used it at some point, taking turns gazing into its depths to earn a chance to nudge events a little. "Does that mean...what _does_ it mean? Are we all gonna come back like this if we die? Because from what I gather, I'm the only one who's carked it quite this thoroughly."

Caleb flinched at Molly's casual reference to his own death, but covered the action with a shake of his head. "We do not know. I would not want to test it, either." His hand reached automatically for Nott's, who clasped it tightly. At the same time, Molly saw Jester and Caduceus make the same motion. So others had fallen, too, but they'd been luckier than he.

He sighed and shuffled the cards once more. The short buzz of paper and the stretch of his hands calmed the whirling of his mind. Past, present, future. _Who you were, who you are, who you will be._

< ** _CHOOSE._** >

The word reverberated through his memory while the others took up the discussion once more without him.

Which deity had picked him to return, and why? Molly had never been very devout, despite his show of praying over his swords to the Moonweaver each night. He was fairly sure she wasn't the one to bring him back. There had been something so familiar about the voice, but no matter how he chased the thought, it remained just out of reach.

So he shuffled and reshuffled his cards, and, still without paying attention to the others around him, he drew three. Then he stared at them, their identical backs, unwilling to turn them over to see what they said. He recalled the same designs glowing larger than life, fluttering through space.

Ridiculous. The cards were just tools, a way of dressing up the truths that people already knew. He of all people should know that.

He flipped the first card, his Past. The Ten of Swords. Thwarted ambition, an unhappy end.

The second card, Present. The Wheel of Fortune. Anything and everything possible, for good or ill. 

The third card, Future. As his shaking hand moved toward it, something stopped him--the careful but _electric_ touch of familiar long fingers and freckles, clad in black to the wrist. Molly's breath heaved, and his gaze traveled up the arm, the shoulder, to the steady blue eyes and the slight shake of Caleb's head.

"Do you want to know, Mollymauk?"

"They're not real," he whispered, though the first two already made knots of his stomach. The only thing grounding him was the calloused hand on his, holding him back until he knew he was ready.

Caleb blinked, and with that, his expression softened. "They are real enough to you, my friend," he murmured. "Is that not the point?"

Such simple words, to leave Molly so _shattered_.

Things became hazy then, the chatter of the Mighty Nein and Essek coming back but...removed from him, something other that flowed around him but failed to reach him. All Molly saw was a single face, half ablaze in the firelight, a knowing look, a profound sadness and acceptance and and and...

Oh, _hells_. He was done for. 

Somewhere in the course of Molly's private epiphany, Caleb's hand left his and the others bade goodbye to Essek, each of them drifting off to the different parts of the house, or out on errands, or to the hot tub, or wherever. When Molly came back to himself, he caught the tail end of a conversation.

"...Should study this at once," Essek was saying, "I feel that--"

" _Nein,_ " came Caleb's swift reply. "Perhaps later, when he has had time to adjust to living among us."

Essek made a disgruntled sound. "You, passing up an opportunity to investigate? This is not the Caleb Widogast I have come to admire."

"Ah, well," said Caleb, "You never knew me back then. Good day, Essek."

"...Good day." The bell above the door tinkled as the heavy door closed.

Molly could barely breathe. What was that note in Caleb's voice? What had he meant by those words to Essek? What--

"Mollymauk?" The cushion beside him sank under Caleb's weight. Molly could feel his warmth, though a small space remained between them. When he received no answer--because Molly's throat had gone dry--Caleb went on, avoiding Molly's eyes. "I think you must recall that I...did not trust you for a long time. Any of you," he was quick to add, "but I have learned how wrong that was. Without the Mighty Nein, I would still be hiding in the mud and shit of some place like Trostenwald.

"I also do not know if you realize that I considered leaving the night before--before we lost you. I had a thousand different reasons to go." He huffed a dark laugh. "None of them good. I stayed, and for all the good and bad we have gone through, I am glad I stayed."

He stole a look to the side, so Molly nodded for him to go on.

"That day. That was a horrible day. For all of us, but...there was more. I saw all of it; I was powerless to help. If Lorenzo had wanted to kill the rest of us, he could have. He left us alive, broken." As Caleb spoke, his accent grew heavier, his tone harder, forcing out those words or letting them escape before he could stop himself. "I have lost so much, Mollymauk. My family. People I thought were friends. Those in whom I put my trust, who turned on me. But never have I lost someone--"

Caleb hunched forward, face covered by one hand while the other gripped the cushion between him and Molly. 

"I have only cared for very few people in my life. But losing you was different. And the great joke was that I had no idea what you meant to me until you were gone."

Molly stared at him, not quite understanding what was happening.

"I thought it an idle fancy. A simple desire for a something that shone out of reach. I--I do not deserve nice things, or at least then I believed such. I still do, I suppose. But then it didn't matter what I thought I deserved. It was too late. I knew I had been so very wrong."

"What are you telling me?" Molly's voice came out small around the pounding of his heart. "Caleb?" He let himself reach across that short distance between them to curl his fingers over Caleb's hand, the mirror of the touch they'd shared just a short while ago.

Caleb twisted his hand to weave their fingers together. "Forgive me, but I loved you, Mollymauk. And I wished I had been able to see that before the choice to tell you was taken from me altogether."

***

This was how Molly knew he was alive: every nerve burst into flame, beginning with the hand that held tightly to Caleb's and racing throughout his veins. Such a tiny word, _love_ , and such a galaxy of meaning behind it. Even for someone as unsentimental as Mollymauk Tealeaf, there was power in that word, power and terror and hope.

Another tiny word, _hope_.

He was a hedonist, a pleasure-seeker who danced and drank and lusted and flirted at his whim. The kind of man who would try anything once, who filled his emptiness with laughter and loud company. Molly was the antithesis of Caleb, bold and colorful where the other was serious and muted.

But Caleb was also fire, as fierce in aiding his friends as he was in battle. He longed for things, wanted them passionately, and kept all of it tightly controlled and shuttered lest any tiny spark escape. So well-hidden, in fact, that even Molly had never known how much Caleb thought of him. How many nights on the road had they both lain there in camp, thinking the other disinterested or unable to love them back? Worse, how many times had they been on that cusp of saying something only for it to go unsaid?

Molly was sick of it. And this time, he didn't have to say it first.

"Caleb," he began, bringing their joined hands up to his lips, letting his breath ghost over the knuckles, ready to _do something already_ about the cyclone of feelings that consumed him from within, "I--"

"Ba~ack!" Jester's singsong gave just enough of a warning for them to spring apart before the door burst open and half of the Mighty Nein tumbled into the foyer. Molly wondered why he bothered pretending he hadn't been so close to leaning in and making Caleb forget everything but _him_ , but the rowdy group inserted itself around them and took the moment away. Caduceus emerged from the kitchen with a tray and tea, and Fjord flopped onto the couch opposite them. Jester began listing all the things she thought Molly would have to see in Rosohna, and as much as he mourned the loss of contact with Caleb, he couldn't begrudge his love for the others, too. 

So he painted on his old insouciant grin and forced himself to relax his posture, to laugh as if nothing at all was amiss. He tried very hard not to look at Caleb, because the first time their eyes met amid the chaos of the Nein, he understood why it was said that blue flame burned the hottest.

***

Ghor Dranas--no, _Rosohna's_ eternal night messed with Molly's internal clock, but the others seemed to have gotten used to it. There was some unspoken agreement about when it was dinnertime, when it was time to drink, when it was time to retire to the hot tub. Jester showed him around the house--the Xhorhaus, they called it, and he immediately adored the pun--leading him at last to the top of the tower and its impossible tree.

With the tour finished, he leaned back against the railing and tilted his face to the soft light in the branches far above. Deep in a city like Rosohna _,_ one might expect the constant clamor that was common in Zadash or Rexxentrum, but up here, the cool breeze and the massive tree softened any noise that made its way up from below. One could believe one was alone in the world.

Molly was, thankfully, not alone. Jester, beside him, gave him enough time to absorb some of the peace that suffused the space, but only just. "We're going to take you shopping tomorrow," she said _a propos_ of nothing. "You need some of your own things. You can't go around wearing Caleb's clothes forever."

"Why not?" He winked at her, made her laugh and slap his arm.

"Because then he would never be able to concentrate on anything else," she replied with humor, though also with truth. Molly narrowed his eyes at her for such a remark that hit far too close. Jester appeared to not notice as she picked at a loose thread on her coat. "I saw how he looked at you tonight. It's so obvious, Molly."

"And yet you all piled in and wouldn't leave us alone," he groused. Why try to hide it? Jester was too savvy for him to dissemble.

She sent him a sidelong glance. "I wanted to talk to you before anything happened. You know," she grinned like her old self, "before you did the _y'know-y'know_." Her hand wavered in the air in some approximation of what Molly supposed was...a sex act? He wasn't positive.

"Give me some credit. I've been alive for less than a full day. I think." He eyed the dark, starlit sky above. "Ish. But really. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't into it, but...there's a lot...to discuss…"

Jester's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, Molly, are you having _feelings_?" She squeaked, then higher, "For _Caleb_?"

"Hush." He pushed away from the railing, away from her too-sharp observation before she could see the unaccustomed anguish on his face. Too late.

"Oh, Molly. We really did interrupt, didn't we?" She gave his arm a little squeeze. "I won't laugh, I promise. I always thought you just wanted to bone him, but you really, really care, don't you?"

"Not mutually exclusive things, those," he said with an attempt at levity. "Uh, yes. I care. I always cared about all of you."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to qualify it. If you love him, you love him. It's simple."

"Since when is anything to do with Caleb...simple?" He asked. "If it had been, maybe...before…"

"We are gonna need to think of something to call it. No one ever wants to say 'before you died'." She frowned, such an unaccustomed expression for her sweet face. "Especially Caleb. You have to be so careful with him. I mean, he's so much better than he used to be, but…" She trailed off, thinking. "He's not like us, you and me. He thinks too much sometimes."

"He's not glass, _macushla_. He's not gonna break." Molly felt like he might be the one to break first, instead, with the fine edge he walked around Caleb.

"Maybe." Jester's tone dropped into her serious register, the one she only used when it mattered how she said what she said. "He deserves to be happy, Molly. I want that for both of you. When we lost you, he _did_ break. I only know why because I heard his nightmares afterward. I used to talk to him when no one else was awake."

"And what am I supposed to do with that?" He retorted, flinging his arms wide, spinning in a circle to face her. "I'm getting whiplash. I don't know how I fit in here anymore, what I'm doing here, why I'm alive. This--" he waved a hand that encompassed himself and the world, "--this makes no sense. I should be thinking about it, trying to understand, but all I can think about, every moment, is _him_." 

With the words out, Molly found himself breathing hard as if he'd run a mile. He opened his mouth to say something more, but Jester's attention affixed itself to a point beyond his shoulder.

_Oh, hells._

Molly turned to follow her line of sight, though he knew what he'd see: Caleb, framed by the doorway from the tower, his coppery hair shadowing his face, his countenance unreadable. Caleb took a breath, sent a heavy glance toward Jester, then turned and disappeared back down the stairs.

"Shit," said Molly, and went after him, Jester already forgotten before he was swallowed by the darkness in pursuit.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @chai_tiefling for the lovely support as I went through this chapter!


	6. (To Touch) To Kiss

"She should not have told you that," was all Caleb said as Molly caught up to him on the turret stairs. He hadn't gone far, just a few steps down, though he had yet to turn around. Four amber lights floated lazily around his head and shoulders, lighting the area just enough for a human to see. To Molly, he looked extraordinarily beautiful, if tempered by a little sadness. Not as much sadness as he might have expected, but it was there.

Well, it was always there.

"Think of it this way," Molly said with a grin he didn't feel as he covered the last few steps until they were only one apart, "At least now you don't have to tell me, right?" He wanted to reach out, just in comfort, in support, or even just to have the excuse to touch Caleb again. His hand raised, unbidden, but at the last moment he pulled it away, torn between closing the remaining inches between them and giving Caleb his space.

A hand closed over his, gently taking the decision from him. Molly watched as if from a distance as Caleb shifted to face him, drew it close until the palm cupped his jaw. He gave a little sigh that floated across the skin of Molly's wrist.

"Ah,  _ Liebchen _ ," he murmured, "I would tell you everything if you asked me."

"Don't say that," whispered Molly. He was too aware that they were alone in the tower, that Jester hadn't followed him, and the stone dulled the sounds of the rest of the Nein. It was only the two of them in that liminal space, surrounded by the dancing lights that caught the gleam in Caleb's eyes, his teeth, the shine on his lips that Molly wanted so badly to taste.

Caleb's fingers tightened by a fraction. "I only say what I mean."

"You said you  _ loved _ me."

"I did," Caleb agreed.

It sounded so simple. "And now?" Molly needed to know. "Because I know what I used to be like, but I can't be like...that...anymore. Not with you."

And while he was being honest, he'd never wanted a quick physical thing with Caleb, not even when they'd first met. From their first real fight together under the circus tent, Molly had seen something that made him want  _ Caleb _ , some gravity that drew him into the wizard's orbit and kept him there, unable to move closer or further away. And death had a way of stripping back the extra things that didn't matter anymore, like drowning his desires in purchased company and alcohol.

That orbit was drawing him closer now, though, and no matter what he did, he could not escape it.

Caleb moved up a step, onto the same one that Molly occupied, and rested their foreheads together. "Come with me," he said instead of answering Molly's question.

And Molly couldn't help but follow.

***

It wasn't far to the hall where their rooms sat across from each other. Voices from the hot tub drifted up, echoing, a comfortably normal background noise. Molly would be with them, but there he was, towed along behind Caleb for the second night in a row. But this time, when they stopped in front of the two doors, Caleb led him into the one on the right.

Caleb's room.

Molly must have hesitated, for Caleb turned, their fingers still intertwined. "Wait," Molly said through a tight throat, though he didn't want to wait at all. "What--"

"Just to talk," replied Caleb, "I cannot handle anymore interruptions. Please, Mollymauk."

He could do that. "All right." Molly let himself be guided through the door and into the sanctum Caleb claimed for his own. But Caleb didn't speak at all at first. He only pulled Molly close, enveloped him in his arms and buried his face against Molly's shoulder. 

Molly's arms moved of their own accord to embrace Caleb, hands flat to his back, sliding up over spine and shoulder blades, crossing each other to cover as much of Caleb as he could. He stroked through the long strands of red hair and ran his fingertips along the hollow at the back of Caleb's neck.

Caleb shivered, moved closer until not a sliver of space remained between them. They breathed in time and with each exhale, their bodies relaxed into each other a little more. They melded together, not quite in a sexual way but not quite chastely, either.

Nothing Molly had imagined could prepare him for how warm, secure, how right it felt to stand like that, to hold and to be held. Caleb's hair smelled of rosemary and his skin of tea and old paper. Beneath his hands, the wizard was still thin, but there was muscle there, too. Better than he remembered. Back then, Caleb had been the shadow of a man, on the run from the demons of his past. Those demons were still there, Molly guessed, but Caleb no longer hid from them. Perhaps he'd even found some sort of peace.

"I do still love you," Caleb said into Molly's shirt.

To cover his stuttering heart, Molly could only give a weak chuckle. "Taking your own promise to heart, then?" When Caleb picked his head up to look Molly in the eye, Molly made sure his smile held nothing but fond sincerity. He traced Caleb's handsome face with the back of his knuckles, "To not let things go unsaid?"

"Yes," said Caleb with heat behind the word, and the promise of more. "Tell me, Mollymauk, could you feel the same thing for me, do you think?"

_ Fuck it _ , thought Molly, and he nodded.

And then his back was pressed to the stone wall, and Caleb's mouth was on his, burning, hungry. Molly opened to him without a second thought, seeking a taste of his own, letting their tongues slide and curl together. Caleb kissed him as if he was afraid Molly would disappear, holding both sides of Molly's face in his hands like cupping water to drink.

The silk scarf around Molly's neck slithered free; he hadn't even noticed Caleb undoing the knot that held it, nor the pop of the collar button. A hand in his hair pulled his head back, exposed the length of his throat to Caleb's teeth and lips and tongue. Molly groaned as Caleb bit down at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, shuddered under the sheer pleasure of it all. 

"Stay with me tonight," came Caleb's whispered plea, his voice more breathy than usual, his accent thicker. "Until I know you are not a ghost or a dream."

"We have a lot to talk about in the morning," Molly warned, but he let himself be dragged over to the bed and down onto its soft white sheets. Caleb burned like a bonfire under his hands, wild and hot and possessive, grasping Molly's wrists to leave kisses on each fingertip, to nibble at the soft skin of is wrists and anywhere he could manage when Molly's mouth was out of reach. Molly obliged him at last, dipping his head to meet Caleb's lips again and again until they couldn't tell where one kiss ended and the next began. 

Then Caleb caught him and Molly tumbled to the bed beside him. The kisses grew less frantic, more and more languid, deeper, lazier. Caleb held Molly with care, trading kisses and stroking the side of his face, tracing Molly's horns, sliding his hands under the opening of the Xhorhasian tunic. It came apart easily--of course it did; it was Caleb's, after all--and Caleb sighed.

"These, I remember," he murmured as the fabric parted to reveal Molly's tattoos. He traced the edges of each feather, pushing the edges of the garment aside to see more and more. Molly arched into the touches as if that would let him feel more of Caleb's hands on more of his skin.

Those hands stilled, however, when Molly's chest was bared entirely. Dazed, Molly raised his head to look down, curious as to why Caleb had stopped.

"Ah," he breathed, when his eyes fell upon what Caleb now saw.

Molly had many, many scars upon him, but there was one he'd forgotten that Caleb had not yet seen. The mark of his demise, healed over and painless, but still  _ there _ . Caleb's hand hovered over it, neither making contact nor pulling away, as if the magnetic power that had brought them together had suddenly reversed polarity. 

"You can, um...you can touch it," Molly said softly. "I don't mind."

Caleb closed his eyes, let out a little sigh, dropped his gaze. "I cannot,  _ Liebchen _ . Not yet." Maddeningly, he pulled the tunic back together to cover the scar, to hide Molly from him. He began to move away entirely.

"Please." Molly stopped him with a word and a swift hand upon his wrist before they were too far apart. "Caleb, please. Don't go."

Seconds turned into a minute, until just when Molly feared Caleb would resist, but instead he gave a rueful laugh and flopped back down to the bed beside Molly. "All right," he said as he twined his fingers with Molly's once more, "I would be a madman to deny you this much."

Relief flooded through Molly, tempering the desire that had threatened to spill out of his veins. He curled around Caleb, pressed every inch of himself along Caleb's side and let his tail wind around the wizard's thigh. "Maybe I'm just too cozy to go back to my own room," he said, and hoped his meaning was clear.

If he had his way, they would have already progressed past simply kissing each other senseless by now. But Caleb still had to move beyond the circumstances of Molly's death; more to the point, he had to accept the scar. 

Gods, but Molly hoped the next time they did this, Caleb would be able to focus on things other than what lay in the past. As before, he felt like every nerve was on fire. Not a glowing ember, but a raging inferno. Molly wanted to touch all of Caleb, every inch of skin, and to taste more of those heady kisses.

But he would be patient. The sight of his fatal scar would be enough to kill anyone's mood. Perhaps tomorrow, Caleb would be ready to try again. Molly was certain  _ he  _ would be.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [Chai_Teafling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chai_Teafling/pseuds/Chai_Teafling) for giving me a hand with this chapter, yet again!


	7. (To Kiss)

That night, there was only one dream, a simple one, where Molly chased a card that flipped and spun like a dry leaf, just beyond his fingertips. He nearly caught it once, but the sun filled his vision and he forgot about cards and choices and simply turned his face to bask in its glory, hands reaching out to grasp the comforting flames that extended toward him and pulled him in.

***

Morning in Rosohna did not come with sunlight or the song of birds; the only thing that marked the change of night to day for Molly was the stirring of the man beside him. Molly laid on his back with an arm outstretched; Caleb was using it as a pillow as he laid on his stomach, hands still clasped around Molly's captive one. But when he woke, Caleb turned over to face Molly. That fetching blush stained his cheeks and nose, pretty enough that Molly decided he didn't mind the pins and needles that suffused his arm as he took it back. Instead, he smiled over at Caleb. "Good morning. At least, I think it is."

" _Guten_ _Morgen_ ," Caleb agreed. He made no move to get up, instead snuggling closer with a contented hum. Everything felt warm and soft, cozy and hazy. Molly found that hard to resist, despite knowing they needed--desperately needed--to talk before they did something that Caleb might regret. 

Because, truth be told, Molly was perfectly happy to take things to their logical conclusion.

But for the moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the weight of Caleb's body along his, those long, lean limbs wound around him in unaccustomed abandon. Molly fondly ran fingers through Caleb's long hair, enjoying its silky texture. How far the wizard had come from his humble and dirty beginnings! Even then, he'd been terribly handsome, but he'd also been so frightened of discovery that it took an effort to see that beauty. Molly wondered if any of that harsh past had been resolved. Something must have happened, to let Caleb finally relax enough to care at last for his image. 

In the glow of moonlight through the window, Molly's darkvision gained a boost that let him study the dozing figure beside him. In sleep, Caleb's face lost some of its tension and some of the worry eased away. His long lashes cast shadows across his cheeks, their paleness dotted by freckles that Molly hadn't seen until the first time Caleb became clean. They had never left his mind after that--Molly found himself fascinated by them, and he'd had fantasies about tracing constellations between them with his fingers. Those freckles could be found across his shoulders, too, his arms; if the pattern held, Molly hoped he might eventually find them elsewhere, too.

He wanted to kiss Caleb again.

"Darling," he murmured as he scooted down, deeper into the blankets and the feather bed, "Caleb, sweetheart, are you with me?"

In answer, Caleb let him resettle within his arms and, with eyes still closed, nuzzled into Molly's neck. He chuckled deep in his chest as he woke fully, licked delicately along the edge of Molly's long, pointed ear. Molly shivered.

"This is not conducive to tal--mmph!" His words were muffled under Caleb's mouth slotting itself across his, tongue tracing Molly's lips as if he hadn't just been half-asleep just a moment ago. Every coherent thought fled Molly's mind in the face of the sweet and deliberate onslaught of Caleb's kisses.

Then that perfect mouth left his, peppering kisses across his face, his cheeks, teeth scraping over the edge of his jaw and into the soft skin of Molly's neck. Caleb revisited places he'd nibbled upon the night before, refreshing marks he'd left with great relish. His favorite spot seemed to be that junction of neck and shoulder, for he attacked that spot with a firm, confident bite and dark hum. 

Molly  _ wanted _ . He was used to being the one in charge but Caleb--this new Caleb--overrode every thought. It was a pleasant change, lovely to be the one at the mercy of someone rather than the one who called the shots. So he let Caleb direct him, gave himself over to sensation. Molly twisted his fingers in Caleb's shirt, in the blankets, gasped under each nip of teeth and lave of tongue. 

Caleb overwhelmed his senses in the best way possible, all heat surrounding him with arms braced on either side of his head, one leg nudging its way between Molly's thighs as he returned to draw kiss after kiss from Molly's mouth.

Too soon. Too much, too soon. Molly let out a frustrated groan. "Darling, darling Caleb, stop," he protested, hating every word because he would much rather urge their bodies together and see where this took them. But they had to talk and he had to shop and he had a feeling neither of them wanted to bring this...whatever this was into the group consciousness. Not yet.

"I don't want to stop," Caleb complained into Molly's ear. "I want to keep you here and take you apart piece by piece. I want you, beautiful Mollymauk, I want all of you."

Molly shuddered under the sheer force of desire. His hands clutched at Caleb's shoulders as if that would steady him. It only served to remind him of how solid and real Caleb was. How close they were together, the perfect fit of their bodies. "Just a little longer,  _ macushla _ . This--" he had to force himself to breathe, "--this is so good, you're so good. But we have to talk before this goes too far."

"What is there to talk about?" murmured Caleb. "I want to make love to you." He shifted his hips slightly against Molly's. They both made needy little noises at the motion, Molly lamenting that they really, really couldn't stay like this for long.

He caught Caleb's lips in one final kiss and tried to put every bit of regret into it, then used his weight to switch their places. "Everything," he said. His hair swooped forward, a violet curtain as he now loomed over Caleb. "I'm an all-or-nothing kind of guy, at least when it comes to pretty wizards I want to fuck into oblivion."

Ah, now  _ that _ cut through Caleb's haze; his gaze sharpened on Molly's in interest. "I am listening," he breathed.

And how beautiful was this man, this human who had spent so much time making himself seem unassuming and below notice? With that wavy, coppery hair spread out like the sun's rays across his pillow, with swollen red lips still shiny with their kisses, with that wonderful blush staining his cheekbones and the tips of his ears? Molly admitted that the temptation to keep going was almost too great to resist.

He tore himself away, put a few feet of space between them by scrambling back to the foot of the bed. Molly looked down at himself, panting hard. His borrowed tunic had been opened fully and somehow his belt had come undone. That had been Caleb's doing. The entire expanse of Molly's chest was littered with darker marks, some of which were already sore. That wasn't a bad thing, but it managed to distract him from the matter at hand.

Caleb, for his part, hoisted himself into a sitting position against the headboard. His own clothes resembled Molly's, the tunic opened to the waist and yanked half off one shoulder. He ran shaking fingers through his messy hair and laughed ruefully. "You are a stronger man than I,  _ Liebchen _ ."

"Only barely." Molly returned the laugh, though. "That wasn't a lie I told you just now."

There was a  _ thunk _ as Caleb let his head drop back against the headboard. "Not helping," he said, the words coming out strangled. "Gods, Mollymauk."

"And I look forward to hearing you say  _ that  _ over and over into a pillow at some point," Molly went on, enjoying Caleb's hitch of breath. "But first. Us. This." He motioned to them both, then just himself. "As much as I want to, I can't just pick up where I left off. So much has changed. And so much goes unanswered."

"Essek has theories, as do I." Caleb visibly brought himself back to the matter at hand. "Today, I will look through my notes and perhaps visit the Marble Tomes for information about reincarnation methods. I might find something that will give us an insight as to what happened and why."

"Great, the marble thingy sounds great." He wasn't so sure about Essek, but given Caleb's very enthusiastic advances toward him, maybe that wasn't the issue he feared it would be. "Jester wants to take me shopping today. So we can stay out of your hair if you need to concentrate."

"There is only one thing I want to concentrate upon, Mollymauk, and it is sitting across the bed from me right now."

"You're a fucking menace, Widogast." Molly ran his fingers through his hair in an effort to restore some kind of order to it. "And if we are going to have any kind of privacy in the future, we should probably not get caught in each other's rooms by the rest of the Nein."

" _ Ja, ja _ , you have a point. I am not ready to face another interrogation about my sex life under a Zone of Truth." Caleb stretched; Molly's eyes were drawn immediately to the line of reddish hair that grew over his belly and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. 

_ Later, later. _ Molly shook his head to clear it. It only worked a little. He made his feet swing off the bed to the cold stone floor. The minor chill helped him focus more. He needed to breathe, and not just the air from Caleb's lungs. 

"Right." He slapped his hands to his thighs and stood with false cheerfulness. "We have plans for the day. Let's see what we can get done on our own."

He reached for the handle of the door, but Caleb swiftly pushed off the bed, crossed the floor to him and caught his hand before he could open it. All at once, that heat was at his side, and fingers were at his jaw, tilting his face to the exact angle needed to meet Caleb's insistent mouth. Molly couldn't suppress the moan that brought forth. It would be so easy to just fall back into that bed. Shopping could wait...

A sharp knock--not on Caleb's door, but on the one that should be Molly's room, stopped them both cold. "Yo, Molly, get up," said Beau in her lazy drawl. "Jester said you guys are going shopping right after breakfast. Downstairs in five, bud." Thankfully, she didn't wait around for an answer; they held their breaths until her sauntering footsteps padded back down the hall toward the stairs.

Caleb closed his eyes and released his breath in a sigh. "So much for dragging you back to my bed," he muttered. He turned the door handle with a resignation that Molly understood all too well. "Go on, beauty, before they send someone else. I will see you at breakfast in a moment."

Once Molly made it across to his own room, with the door safely closed behind him, he leaned against it and closed his eyes. He could still feel Caleb's fingers on his skin, and every place he'd left a mark now ached in a pleasant way.

Normally, at this point in Molly's experience, the tension of initial attraction would be alleviated. Instead, Molly wanted more. Caleb was something he wanted to understand. To take apart, preferably starting with the laces at the front of his trousers.

But first, shopping.

***

Jester got him bundled out of the house literally as Molly was finishing his last bite of toast. He only had a moment to see Caleb pulling on a striped scarf before the door closed and they were halfway down the walk. Nott and Yasha joined them for part of the trip, both needing supplies of their own. 

"Was he--wearing  _ color _ ?" Molly managed to ask after swallowing. They were already half a block away by the time he was able to talk. "Dammit, Jester!"

"Were you looking at Cay-leb?" Her eyes sparkled. No, literally, they sparkled; she'd done something to add magical glitter around them.

"Oh, shush, you."

Nott snorted. "My boy has nice taste," she said archly. "He looks very handsome in his new clothes."

Molly sent a glance her way. "So do you, Nott. Yellow is a good color with your complexion."

She blinked up at him in surprise, then looked away shyly. "Well, you know, it's okay to be a goblin here," she said softly. "It's nice not to need to hide."

"I agree," he replied. "Rosohna agrees with most of you. Everyone looks so...healthy. Relaxed."

Jester slipped her arm through his and rested her head against his shoulder. "We are. Sort of. There's--there's a lot going on, Molly. Like, really dangerous stuff that could affect the whole world. But we're here to regroup and make plans for the next step. So we've had a little time to recover."

"Good thing I came along when I did, then, isn't it?" Molly tried to put some sincerity into his words. "I'm sure you can always use another fighter."

"Are you sure?" Yasha's quiet question cut through the sound of the growing crowd as they approached a market street. "You don't even have your swords."

"To be fair," Jester piped up, "Fjord ate one."

"He...what."

She gave him an apologetic grin. "He did that for a while for his old patron. He consumed weapons and crystals and things. He took Summer's Dance, I think."

Aww, now that was a shame. He'd liked that blade. "Well, then, perhaps I should look into getting something new. Don't suppose you know any glassblowers around here?"

Yasha shook her head. "No, but I might know someplace that will work." She motioned down a side street, one lined with the glow of a half-dozen blacksmith forges. "This is my stop. I will meet you all back at the Xhorhaus later, yes?"

"Thank you kindly, dearest." Molly withdrew from Jester and Nott to cup Yasha's face in his hands. She obliged, smiling as she bent down to kiss his forehead.

"See you soon," she murmured; Molly's heart felt full. Then she straightened and turned down the other street without another word. Molly watched her go. His relationship with Yasha had always been close, and as much as he'd enjoyed Caleb's company in the past couple of hours, he felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't reconnected with her or any of the rest of the Nein as much.

Nott took his hand and gave it a small squeeze, bringing him back to himself. He looked down, curious, to meet her wide yellow eyes.

"Shopping," she whispered, those eyes narrowing in mischief.

He grinned back. "Shopping."

Jester squealed. "We are gonna have  _ so _ much fun, you guys!"

***

" _ What _ ," said Jester an hour later, as Molly emerged from a curtained dressing room in a silk fuchsia-colored tunic, "is  _ that _ ?!" Her voice spun into a register so high, Molly couldn't actually hear the last word. He tilted his head to the side, not understanding, until he noticed her eyes focused on a particular spot on his neck.

_ Oops _ .

He sighed and gave up on trying to hide it. "Go on, take a look," he said. "Get it out of your system now."

She very nearly teleported across the shop to him, eyes wide, making excited little noises as she poked at it and bounced on her toes. Her tail whipped back and forth in excitement. "Molly, oh my gosh oh my gosh, you and Cay--" she lowered her tone to a stage whisper at his gesture to hush, "--you and  _ Caleb _ ??"

"Yeah," he whispered back, covering the mark with his hand. It was quite sore still, a deeper bruise than any of the others he carried. The slight burn brought back memories from just hours before, of that cozy bed and a willing wizard and a clever tongue...

"You and Caleb  _ what _ ?" Nott grated, low and dangerous. "Did you do something to my boy?"

"Nothing he didn't do to me first," he muttered, then, at Nott's growl, he amended, "It's no one's business but ours. Don't worry, Nott, we just--"

What? They just what? Were they lovers? There had been declarations and agreements, and plenty of reciprocal feelings, but everything was moving so quickly. And he liked that it was going so fast, but should he let it? This was the conversation he and Caleb should have had that morning, or last night, or sometime before Molly let himself give in to Caleb's very convincing advances.

"Uh, Molly?" Nott's voice had lost its edge. "You--okay?"

"Hmm?" The world around him started again. He realized he'd drifted off; a glance in the dressing room mirror showed him a soft expression, a faint smile and a blush that he could see even under his lavender skin. It nearly matched the tunic he was trying on.

Jester giggled. "He's in loooooove."

Molly stared at himself in the mirror, eyes flicking to the mark that he felt like he could see even through his fingers. He'd seen enough lovers in his time with the circus, enough infatuated sweethearts and first-time romances to know what they looked like. None of them had the element of melancholy around them that he saw in himself. What did that mean?

"Molly," Nott tried again, "It's really hard to give you a talking-to when you zone out like that."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I...yes. I am  _ crazy _ in love."

"Well, shit. I was gonna tell you to be careful with my boy, but now I feel bad."

"Sorry," he said again. The mood turned awkward. Even Jester seemed subdued. "I, ah, I didn't plan on it, if that's what you want to know. But we...he told me things about how he felt when I died. And before that, too. We just missed each other back then, you know? If he'd been in a better place, back then, I would have been happy to see where things went. I liked him, so much. But I wasn't about to make moves on someone in such a place as he was. He had too much pain. I swear, Nott, I wouldn't have touched a hair on his head, not when he was like that." He was aware he was just talking, pouring out everything he'd been thinking since he'd first seen Caleb two nights ago.

"We know, Molly," said Jester kindly.

And yet, he couldn't stop. "I'm crazy about him. I want to tell him all of this, but whenever I'm alone with him, I can't even think. And he's so...different. He's him, but he's not so haunted. He's like a flame. I can't stop looking at him. He's the only thing in the room no matter how many of us there are."

"Ooo-kay." Nott waved a hand in front of his face. "I think that's enough for now. Why don't we pay for this stuff and get back home? Caduceus can make you some tea and we'll just, I don't know, push you guys into a room where you can tell Caleb all this? Away from the rest of us because I do not need to hear any more poetry."

Jester pouted. "But it's so romantic, Nott! Molly is confessing his feelings and we need to help him. I like the idea of putting them together alone. We should get flowers, too...oh, and maybe something a little sexy for Molly to wear, and--"

_ That _ brought him out of his reverie. "Nope. No. Don't give me that face,  _ macushla _ . I can handle this on my own, without any meddling by even the most well-meaning of tieflings or goblins."

"Good, 'cause I am not interested in meddling," Nott said, relieved. "But it still stands: don't break my Caleb's heart or we'll have a problem, got it?"

"I will treat his heart with all the care something so precious deserves," Molly promised with a bow. Nott grumbled, but he could see her relax a little, which made him feel better. "Right. So, pretending that I didn't just spill my guts to both of you in the middle of a clothing stall, what do you think of this color on me?"

They bought the fuchsia tunic, as well as a deep blue one edged in mustard-gold braid and a pair of wide-striped pants in moss green and brown. The pieces didn't clash the way he would have preferred, but the combination with the two new tunics worked well enough for his taste. Jester and Nott determined that the trousers he'd borrowed from Caleb should stay his, now that he'd altered them to accommodate his tail, so they bought a new pair for Caleb to replace them. 

Thankfully, not much else was said about Molly's predicament after that. He let himself enjoy the time out with them, once he realized they were giving him some space on the subject. The Mighty Nein certainly had grown, if this was any indication of their new dynamic.

After they'd hit a few more stalls to complete a shopping list that had been written in many different hands, Jester declared it time for lunch and dragged the two of them by the arm to a nearby tavern. They piled into a corner table and ordered meat pies and ale, though Jester requested water for herself. Money was apparently no object any longer, for no one blinked an eye at the prices, and Nott plunked down two full gold instead of the one gold, five silver that the food required.

They were halfway through the meal when Jester brightened. "Look who just walked in!"

Molly and Nott turned to see Yasha straightening after she'd ducked through the tavern's doorway. She turned to say something to someone behind her, who bent to look around her.

Caleb.

Wearing a  _ purple _ coat. With his hair tied back and his hands full of books. His eyes raked the room until they landed on Molly, and then he  _ smiled _ .

"Bloody hell," Molly breathed, "I'm a goner." Jester gave a happy little squeak.

Nott cackled and waved the two over to the table. "Fancy meeting you here!"

Yasha procured an extra chair as Caleb nabbed the last one at their table. Everyone scooted to make room, though even then it was a tight squeeze. Molly was all too aware of Caleb's proximity. How could he not be? His thoughts were suddenly full again, of how close they'd been all night, of that last incredible kiss before he'd had to collect himself in his room before breakfast, of the mark on his neck that ached with every brush of fabric on his skin.

"I trust everyone has been successful today?" Caleb asked. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Molly as he patted the stack of books he now balanced on his lap. "There is some news, a possibility. I cannot discuss it here, but when we return home, I will tell you all about it."

His face was alight with excitement. Molly's stomach did a little flip at the knowledge that something, anything, could make Caleb  _ happy _ , and even better that it was something to do with Molly. "Can't wait to hear all about it," he said, hoping he didn't waver or give Nott any reason to roll her eyes. "I...like your coat, by the way. The color. It's nice." He stopped talking with a snap of his jaw before anything more stupid could come out.

But he was rewarded with that beautiful blush and a softer smile. "Thank you, Mollymauk. It is my favorite color, you know."

There was some other meaning behind those simple words. "I did not know." 

" _ Ja _ , it has always been a pleasant reminder to me of...some things."

Oh.  _ OH _ . "...Oh."

"Get a room," Nott said without any particular heat, though she did, in fact, roll her eyes at them. 


	8. To Die

They walked home in a loose parade, chatting. It was easy to see the changes in them when their attention wasn't on Molly; he hung back more and more as the conversations shifted and the group talked over each other. Yasha and Jester bent their heads together at one point, glancing back at him and sending him oddly similar grins. He smiled back, and hoped his stride looked casual and relaxed. He wasn't sure he was too successful.

Nott and Caleb talked softly as well; Nott bumped Caleb with her shoulder from time to time and they shared a laugh of their own. That left Molly on his own to trail behind, feeling a little bit sorry for himself and out of place again.

That is, until Caleb looked over his shoulder at Molly and paused to let him catch up. "Was your trip successful?" he asked. He sounded as if he really was interested, even glancing curiously at the bright bundle Molly carried.

"I did," he replied with as much cheer as he could manage. "You'll get your clothes back at last."

"Hmm." Caleb walked a few steps before he said quietly, "Pity. I rather like seeing you wear my things."

Molly stumbled and was thankful that he didn't blush as easily as Caleb did--though at the moment, the handsome wizard seemed as cool as ever. Jester raised her brows in question, but Molly just shook his head. "Sorry," he deflected, "there was a rock." She did not look convinced, but her narrowed eyes and impish smile promised a more thorough grilling later.

It could be lovely to be the center of attention, but even Molly had to admit there were times he wouldn't mind if he wasn't.

***

Returning to the Xhorhaus was as chaotic as always. People talked over and around each other, laid out purchases, asked for tea. Caleb set down his books and shed the purple coat and scarf, then motioned for Molly to follow him upstairs. Molly figured he had to put his new clothes into his room anyway, so he went along. He didn't make it. 

Caleb dragged him into his room, shut the door and pressed Molly up against it. He leaned in and nuzzled Molly's cheek. "You liked that, didn't you?"

Molly knew exactly what he was talking about. The simple statement had been winding around his brain the entire way home. "And here I thought you'd rather take the clothes back," he teased despite the fluttering in his belly. "Better decide what you want, Widogast."

"Maybe I'll take them now." Hot breath ghosted over his ear. Molly's knees went weak. "Tear them from your back--"

"Dammit, Caleb--" Molly hissed, then stopped when he saw Caleb's face go still. "...Message?"

" _Ja_." He held up a finger to Molly's lips as he murmured a brief, "I see. I...might have some time today. I will stop by later." Then he was back in the room, shoulders drooping slightly. The close heat of Caleb's body disappeared; Molly missed it at once. "I never thought I would be unhappy to hear from Essek, but…" The sweeping glance he gave Molly left no question about what he'd rather be doing.

"He's teaching you important stuff, right? And you said you wanted to work on what happened to me." He moved close to Caleb, swaying his hips and tail. "Go on, darling. I'll still be here when you get back."

An expression of pain crossed Caleb's face. "I know," he whispered, "but I still fear that you won't."

Molly sighed and pulled Caleb close to kiss him gently. "Go on," he said again. "Bring back some brilliant theories and we'll talk about them if you want. And I'll rub your shoulders and you can pin me to the mattress or whatever you want to do. All right?"

"Menace," said Caleb, kissing him back. 

***

"Sooooooo," Jester began, flopping onto the couch beside Molly in the Happy Room, "Caleb looked a little flustered when he left a minute ago."

"He did," said Molly miserably. He was proud of the brave and understanding face he'd put on for Caleb's benefit, but once he'd gone, Molly felt like his strings had been cut. "We were kind of...not in that mindset when he got the message."

She let out a long "ohhhhh" that sounded sympathetic, but her dancing eyes gave her away. "You should have been like, 'oh, Cayleb, I will simply  _ die  _ without your touch, do not leave me!'" The melodramatic performance ended with her swooning into Molly's lap with a hand to her forehead, giggling. She stopped, however, after a good look at his face. "What's wrong?"

"Don't say that kind of thing around him." Molly petted her hair and didn't make her move. He almost felt like old times like this, when he'd really been a member of the Mighty Nein. "He's having a hard time with my death. Like he's afraid I'm going to disappear if he doesn't keep an eye on me."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," she began, but he shook his head.

"No, I mean, he literally said that. Like he thinks this is...I don't know. Temporary. A dream. I don't know." He sat back on the couch and closed his eyes for a moment. "Hells, I don't know, either. I feel solid. I am pretty sure I'm here to stay. But who knows? I've died twice and come back both times. Who's to say whether or not I'll do it again?"

The frown on Jester's pretty face seemed out of place. "Who's to say that about any of us? Molly, we all put ourselves in danger all the time. We've lost each other, even died. Nott and Caduceus almost didn't make it when it happened to them." Her tail lashed a few times before twining with his, and her voice grew very small. "If I'd been there when you--"

"Hey. Hey. None of that." Molly cupped her face in his hands and gazed down at her with all the affection and love he could muster. "It happened the way it happened. I'd do it all again for you. And Fjord, and Yasha. For all of you."

"Please don't, though?" 

His smile was tempered with rue. "I promise I won't be reckless."

"Okay." She let him stroke her hair for a bit, then seemed to come to a decision. She struggled to sit up. "Okay. I think I get why Caleb feels that way, now. But he's not so great sometimes with emotions. He has them, but he doesn't  _ let  _ himself have them."

"It's a very Zemnian thing, from what I understand," Molly said wryly, and she nodded.

"Ever since you came back, though, he can't deny them--oh, Molly. He is just like the hero in this one book--"

"Focus, pet."

"--Right. Okay. So he needs to come to terms with how he feels about you. We know he looooooooves you, but...what, he stops himself?"

"Pretty much." Molly thought about his hesitation over the scar, and the immense restraint Caleb had shown that afternoon. "It's driving me insane. He clings to me or he's afraid to touch me. It's not even like he's hot and cold. He's just hot and...simmering."

"So you need him to boil over, right?"

Molly laughed. "This is the most awkward conversation I have ever had. But yes. Yes. I want him to 'boil over'."

"Got it. Leave things to me." The devious expression on her face made him worry about what she had in store, but he was desperate enough. Let her do her worst.

***

Determined not to mope around doing nothing, Molly went in search of Yasha after Jester had twirled off, cackling. He followed the sounds of sparring to another room in the house, where both Yasha and Beau attacked various stand-ins for opponents. Beau was busy with a wooden post that had horizontal bars protruding from many angles, while Yasha worked through sword forms in the center of the room. Around her were the remnants of straw men, cleaved into pieces on the floor.

Molly leaned against the wall to watch them both. Yasha wielded a sword he didn't recognize, broad, rust-colored and brutal. Yet, despite its size and obvious lack of balance, in her hands it seemed almost elegant. She had always been a sight to behold in battle, and now she moved with deadly grace as if the sword was a part of her. It shouldn't be able to spin and slice so easily, but in her hands, it flew.

Beau noticed him first. She finished her practice with a friendly pat to the wooden dummy and grabbed a towel before she joined him. Her usual brash manner was dimmed. They hadn't talked much since he'd come back, and he had an idea of what was on her mind. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Awkward silence stretched between them.  _ It's always awkward with everyone now _ , he thought with a sigh. No one really knew how to deal with him, did they? "You've gotten better,  _ Expositor _ ." He said the title with a grin. "Since when did you become a respectable member of society?"

"Fuck you," she said without heat. "I've always been respectable. It's just that the world finally figured it out, too."

He laughed at that, which drew Yasha's attention to them both. She smiled and sheathed the massive sword onto her back and crossed to them. She picked up a long, cloth-wrapped bundle that lay nearby. "Molly. I have something for you."

Molly took it, and at her gesture to go on, unwrapped it with care. A pair of scimitars rested within, not glass like his old ones, but softly polished bronze. They were both decorated with swirling filigree along the dull edge, one with animals hiding among the design and one with plants. He let the wrapping drop to the ground as he fitted his hands to the leatherbound sword grips. They felt good and natural to him, as if he'd wielded them for years.

When he looked up at last to thank Yasha, she was blurry. He hadn't even noticed that he was crying. She simply shrugged and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"They're called Flora and Fauna," she said. "Apparently quite old. I saw them the first time I visited the shop and they always made me think of you. When you said you needed swords, I knew exactly what to do. I never thought I'd get to see you holding them."

"They're perfect," he said softly. "Thank you so much."

Yasha nodded, but her gentle gaze said everything he needed to know. How much she'd missed him, how much she loved him. How much it had hurt when she learned of his death and she hadn't even been able to be at his side when it happened.

They just always understood each other, even without words.

"Well, don't just stand there looking for your reflection," Beau quipped into their thoughts, "Go try 'em out!"

Still taking in the satiny texture of the bronze, Molly went to the center of the practice space and adjusted his hands in the grips. He gave an experimental twirl to each, reveling in the familiar rush of power that sword-dancing always gave him. They were beautifully balanced and leapt in his hands as if anticipating his next moves.

Molly could get used to this.

He let his arms flow into patterns that had once been second nature, crossing and uncrossing the blades, spinning, diving under an imaginary opponent, rising to strike. He learned the similarities and differences of these swords compared to his glass ones. They made a pleasant ring as they swept through the air, like a bowl catching the wind.

Molly finished with a flourish and a bow worthy of his carnival days. Beau and Yasha applauded, the former with a sardonic grin and the latter with a soft, happy smile. He noticed two new figures had arrived as well--Caleb, looking harried and conflicted, and Essek, looking...uncomfortable. Molly raised a brow and sauntered over. He knew how he appeared, panting and sweaty after the workout, and still wearing Caleb's tunic. "Well, hello,  _ macushla _ . Didn't expect you back so soon." He nodded to the drow and let his voice drop to a purr. "Essek."

Essek coughed and looked away, though his ears had turned a deeper violet at the tips. Molly found that  _ very  _ interesting.

"I--We came to use some of the equipment I had here," Caleb stammered. Molly grinned.

"What do you think?" He flourished the swords again, enjoying their shimmer. "Yasha got them for me."

"Very nice," said Caleb, but the heat in his eyes told Molly that he wasn't talking about the swords. Molly slid the dull side of one of the scimitars along the back of his neck and watched as Caleb's gaze tracked the movement. There was something hungry in that gaze. Maybe Jester had the right idea, after all. If he could just get Caleb to boil over, they could get past that last wall that he'd built between himself and, well, everything else.

He let his weight rest on one hip and grinned, all fang, for the benefit of both Caleb and Essek, if for different reasons. "I feel much more myself with them."

"You--" Caleb swallowed. "You look more yourself, as well." He wavered as if being drawn in, then shook himself and reluctantly looked away. "I'd--I'd better get what I came for."

Beau snorted, which seemed to snap both wizards out of their trance. With mumbled farewells, they disappeared down the hall to the workroom Caleb shared with Nott. Molly shared a wry glance with the two women, and spun the swords in his hands.

"So," he said, wondering if the racing of his heart was from the workout or the unadulterated want in Caleb's eyes, "who wants to spar?"

***

The post-workout high had him in an excellent mood, loose-limbed and relaxed. He bade good day to Beau and Yasha and headed off toward the kitchen. He thought about sticking his head into the workspace where Caleb and Essek were still doing their studying or whatever it was they did.

Thinking about the two of them, heads bent together over their arcane books and tools, meeting minds--oddly, he realized it didn't bother him. Just as before, when Caleb had mentioned working with Essek, he found he held no jealousy. He wasn't sure how much he trusted the drow wizard, and the man obviously needed to remove the stick from his arse, but as far as Caleb was concerned, he wasn't the threat Molly had feared he'd be at first.

He was lost in thought enough that he didn't realize Fjord was seated at the dining room table until he was almost even with him. "Oh, hello there."

Fjord tipped his head. "Hello. I didn't expect anyone to be here this time of day. But you're welcome to join me." He motioned to the plate of rolls and meat and the seat across from him. "I figured this was as good a time as any for a snack."

"If you don't mind." Molly took the invitation. He hadn't spoken to Fjord directly at all since coming back. Which was funny, because he and Fjord had always ended up as roommates on the road. And of course, Fjord had been one of the captured Nein, whose attempted rescue had been the cause of his death.

He had to stop thinking about it like that. Otherwise, he was no better off than Caleb.

Molly took one of the sandwiches and devoured it. "Thanks," he said, licking his fingers. "I was looking for something after sparring with Yasha and Beau."

"Listen, Molly…" Fjord began, "We missed you, I think that's obvious. But have you given any thought to what you want to do now?"

"Welllll," Molly drew the word out, "I thought I would rejoin the Mighty Nein again. I don't exactly have anything else on my social calendar." He kept his tone light, but an edge of uncertainty curled in his gut. Did Fjord not want him to stay? Was he too far behind them in skill after their months of working together without him?

"We'd be happy to have you." Fjord sounded relieved, and Molly's fears dissipated.

"Don't do that," he said, slumping his head to the table on his arms. "I swear, I thought you were going to ask me to leave."

Fjord shook his head. "Why would we do that? Hells, Molly, we've been trying to get you back all along. But I wasn't sure if you still wanted to stay here. You're not beholden to us, and we have some big irons in the fire, so to speak. It might not be something you want in on--"

"I want in," Molly said with force. "This is my home. Well, not this, necessarily," he indicated the Xhorhaus around them, "but this. You, Jester, Caleb--the Nein. I can't imagine a life without all of you. I'm not going anywhere."

The half-orc reached across the table and Molly clasped his forearm. "Then welcome back to the Mighty Nein, Molly. I'm glad you're staying."

"Molly!  _ Molly Molly Molly Molly _ !!" Jester's sudden whisper-shout made them both jump and Molly whirled in his seat to see Jester and Nott racing into the room. Before he could say anything, Jester was at his side and tugging at his shirt. "Quick! Take this off!"

He batted her hands away. "Wait--what? Jester!"

"Caleb's on his way down," said Nott from his other side. Her nimble fingers began to unfasten the lower closures of the tunic. "It's part of Jester's plan. Hold still."

"What the--" Fjord began.

"Fjord! This is to help true love!" Jester's stage whisper ended in a squeak. To Molly, she said, "Now shush and get this off before he gets here!"

Molly supposed he had asked for her help, or at very least, agreed to let her help, so he laughed and unbuttoned the tunic. That was as far as he got, for that was when Caleb and Essek appeared at the stairs, chatting amiably about whatever they'd been working on. Both men fell silent at the scene before them, of Jester and Nott wearing expressions of innocence, Fjord looking confused, and Molly lounging with his shirt open and laughing helplessly. 

"I...must...get back to my work," Essek said at last, looking everywhere but at Molly. 

"Right. Work." Caleb, blessedly pale as he was, had turned the most delightful shade of red. It spread all the way down his neck past his collar, and Molly felt a twinge of predatory glee. 

"Don't leave on our account," he called to them, and both men froze. Then Essek--sporting the same violet flush as before--and Caleb made overlapping excuses all the way to the door. Caleb escorted Essek out and, once the drow was safely gone, he fixed the group with a glare, then strode from the room and back up the stairs. They heard his footsteps recede and then the unmistakable slam of the workroom door.

Molly burst into laughter so hard it hurt. He banged on the table with his fist as he struggled to breathe; Fjord still looked confused and Jester put her hands on her hips. Once he could speak again, Molly gasped, "Take off my shirt.  _ That _ was your plan?"

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" she demanded. "Did you  _ see  _ his face!"

"I will never forget it. Oh, gods. Which book did this idea come from?"

She tried to stay mad, but turned sheepish. "Um. 'The Mercenary's Groom'. Don't laugh, Molly! It was a really, really good book, and when Donovan did it, it totally made Edgar realize that he didn't want anyone else and why are you still laughing…"

Wheezing, he fell off the bench, and didn't even care that Jester refused to help him up.

***

He may not have worked out how to get Caleb to deal with his death, but Molly had at least found his footing with the Mighty Nein again. With a pair of swords in his hands, and knowing that his friends wanted him there, he was excited to be a part of them once more. Sparring with Yasha and Beau restored his faith in his own fighting skills, and his talk with Fjord reassured him that he would be welcomed back with open arms. Jester's antics and Nott's fierceness and even Caduceus's quiet energy put him at ease. Caleb--well. Caleb definitely wanted him to stay, no matter what issues rose around that. The point was, he belonged. He wasn't the poor relation, but a valued team member.

And they'd been trying to bring him back the whole time. His heart ached for knowing that, now. 

Molly sat by the hearth in the Happy Room and shuffled his cards. One by one, he laid out three and went to turn the first one over. He wasn't sure what he asked, but perhaps the answer itself would reveal the question.

"Oh, you're in here." Caduceus stuck his head into the room. "I've been asked to invite you to the hot tub. Everyone's going for a soak. Join us?"

The cards beckoned, but the prospect of the hot tub was stronger. "Sure. Thanks, Caduceus."

"Anytime. They're real happy to have you back, though I think you know that by now."

Molly smiled up at the firbolg. "I do, but I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that."

He left the cards where they were. He could always look after a dip in the hot tub.

***

The others were already in the pool, chatting and drinking tea from small clay cups. Molly shed his tunic and pants and eased into the steaming water. The heat suffused his tired muscles and felt heavenly on his back. He leaned his head against the rounded stone edge and accepted a cup of tea from Caduceus, who climbed down into the water next to Jester. Nott sat on the edge, dangling her feet; Beau and Yasha and Fjord hung out in a group on the opposite side. The only one missing was--

"Caleb!" Jester's voice announced the arrival of their final member. Molly looked up to greet him; the words died in his throat.

Caleb was fully dressed, obviously not there to join the others in the hot tub. He stopped by Molly and held out a hand. "Come with me."

"Yo, Caleb, I thought we were all gonna relax in the hot tub--"

"No," said Caleb, answering Beau but looking only at Molly, to whom he said again, "Come with me."

Molly's heart quickened at the command. He considered his options briefly: ignore the order, obey the order, or talk back. He landed on obeying, with the caveat that he might see what happened if he did the other two in the future. "Help me up?"

The wizard's hand was firm and strong in spite of his appearance. Molly was aware of the others staring in interest at whatever was happening here. He clambered out with Caleb's assistance and stood, dripping, before him.

"Do not," Caleb addressed the others, still keeping his eyes on Molly's, "disturb, call, interrupt, or otherwise bother us. Unless we are under attack or the Bright Queen demands our presence, and maybe not even then. Do you understand?"

"Not even for breakfast?" asked Jester, and Caleb's icy blue gaze landed heavily on her.

"Especially not for that. I will personally make your life hell," he said evenly.

"Understood," Beau said, clapping a hand over Jester's mouth before she could say anything else. "Ugh, get the hell out of here, before you make this any weirder."

Molly thought he saw the hint of a smile tug at Caleb's lips before the wizard grabbed his hand and led him up the tower steps, still dripping wet and wondering what the hell he was in for.


	9. With Thee Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rating changed to E for a chapter chock-full of smut. That's all this is.

Molly let Caleb lead him as he had that first night, though he knew this time which door he'd be going through. It felt normal now, to go to Caleb's room, to end up in Caleb's bed. But he had to know before they went there, what to expect. Because Molly was done with maybes and wants without knowing where he--where they--stood.

"Caleb, I--"

"No. Listen to me first." Caleb took a breath, then added, "Please."

"Okay." Molly leaned against the door, arms crossed. He shivered, still damp and wearing only his smallclothes from the hot tub, and wished he'd thought of grabbing a towel on his way out. But he didn't want to interrupt Caleb.

Caleb paced the floor a few times, then whirled on Molly with an accusatory finger. "I cannot stop what you do to me," he growled. It sent a shiver of another kind down Molly’s spine. "I cannot help any of it. I don't want to. I want you."

"I'm not stopping you."

"I know!" Caleb reached for him, then pulled his hand away. "I know. But seeing that scar, that wound. Every time, it hurts."

Molly shrugged. "It hurt when it happened. It doesn't anymore."

"I cannot lose you again."

"You won't." Molly pushed away from the wall to step closer. "I'm here, Caleb. Now. You said you tried to live by my philosophy, but part of that is living for the moments you have in front of you. Enjoy what you can. Be happy. Make others happy. Let go of some of that gods-damned restraint for once."

"But what if--"

"'What if' sucks the joy out of living," said Molly. "I'm here. Now."

This time when Caleb reached for him, he didn't stop. His hand curled around the back of Molly's neck and pulled him close for a hard, fierce kiss. 

When Molly sighed and his lips parted, Caleb dove deeper with his tongue and pulled forth moan after moan. Molly felt surrounded by the heat of desire within and the fiery heat of Caleb from without. Fingers traced over his shoulders, along his ribs, rested at his hips and his wet smallclothes. Caleb pulled back from the kiss and, with hooded eyes and a command in his tone, said, "Take this off and get onto the bed."

Molly didn't argue. He shoved the garment down and stepped out of it; the air hit his body and instantly cooled wherever it touched. Even for a tiefling who ran hot most of the time, he felt the chill and shivered. But then Caleb's hands were on him again, warming him, so hot that Molly even fancied that he saw the glow of flame in the wizard's veins.

"So beautiful," Caleb murmured. 

"Even this?" Molly couldn't help but ask, bringing Caleb's hand to cover the scar. This time, however, there was no hesitation.

"It is part of you, so yes."

"I love you."

Caleb laughed softly. He kissed Molly again, slow and sweet. "Get on the bed and wait for me."

Molly did as he was told, diving under the coverlet to wait as Caleb undressed methodically, with care. He was not overtly seductive about it, but there was something sensual about the deliberate way he kept his eyes on Molly as he pulled the shirt over his head and laid it on a chair, undoing his belt, then his trousers, and on and on until every article of clothing had been neatly set aside and he stood gloriously, radiantly naked in the center of his room.

Watching from the bed, Molly felt his mouth go dry at the sight. He didn't know where to look first--at the freckles, the scars, the half-hard, utterly perfect cock...or at Caleb's beautiful face, gazing down at him with an expression Molly couldn't completely read. He saw fondness, want, and no small degree of possessiveness, and this time the shiver that went through Molly wasn't from the cold.

Caleb put one knee on the bed, just beside Molly's hip. Scarred, wiry arms caged his head, and coppery hair tickled his cheek. Molly whined and raised his hips, wanting contact, waiting for Caleb to ravish him, but instead of the burning kiss he expected, Caleb softly brushed his lips against Molly's in a feather-light touch.

"You complained about my restraint," he said almost too softly to hear. He made another barely-there pass of his lips against Molly's. "I think I shall teach you the benefits of such restraint. Would you like that,  _ Liebchen _ ?"

"Is it going to get you to fuck me?" Molly whined. Caleb held himself just out of reach; maddeningly, there was nothing for Molly to find friction against.

"Eventually," said Caleb, almost casually, causing a full-body shudder to run through Molly. "Well?"

"Yes," said Molly, breathless, and wondered what switch had flipped inside Caleb. He also hoped he'd be able to find it again.

Caleb smiled down at him like a benevolent deity. "Good. All you must do is trust me, then."

"I trust you."

"I love you." Caleb kissed him, but did not pull away. His lips met Molly's, neither advancing nor retreating, as if he was simply content to maintain that slow, sweet contact. Then, not tentatively but unhurried, he swept his tongue across Molly's bottom lip, then in to slide their tongues together. All the while, he kept that unhurried pace. It began to wear against Molly, almost embarrassing in how swiftly it affected him.

Molly wanted him. He wanted that slender body atop him, inside him. He wanted to feel the pressure of fingers digging into his shoulders and hips, the sharp, hot feeling of being fucked. And yet, Caleb continued to deny him any of that, all while taking Molly apart with a simple, deep kiss that made him melt from within.

"Caleb, please," he begged, trying to gain some greater contact by arching his back when Caleb eventually broke the kiss. Caleb only tsk-ed and nuzzled his cheek.

"Trust me."

"I'm trying," said Molly. "It's just--"

"Hmm." Caleb's thoughtful sound vibrated directly into Molly's bloodstream from the soft skin under his ear. "Perhaps I should move on, then."

Molly thought he might combust; he sent up a prayer of thanks to the Moonweaver. But too soon, he learned, for Caleb continued his slow and deliberate assault on Molly's senses by adding equally slow and deliberate touches. Callused fingers trailed over his skin and explored everything they could reach: dancing across his collarbone, tracing his bicep, circling each nipple in an inward spiral. Thumbs covered the deep violet buds and only when Molly gasped did Caleb move his mouth from Molly's to cover each nipple in turn. No teeth, no ferocity, just broad licks and sweet kisses. Everything was soft, so,  _ so _ soft.

Caleb moved lower still, his hands an advance force, stroking down Molly's sides and into the arch of his back. One stayed there, lightly dragging over the base of his tail, while the other rested on his belly and toyed with the fine hairs that began above Molly's waist and led down. That hand didn't move further; it merely laid flat and hot and kept him from seeking more friction from his hips. 

The mouth left his nipple cold and wet. Molly thought he knew--or hoped he knew--where to expect it next, but he was wrong. Instead of moving lower, Caleb kissed him reverently at the top of the terrible scar. 

Molly stopped breathing. Taken out of the haze of abject pleasure by surprise, he raised his head to see what Caleb was doing.

As though kissing the hand of a king, or worshiping a holy relic, each press of Caleb's lips to the scar held all the reverence and adoration of a supplicant. He missed not a single inch, his kisses overlapping, covering its jagged length. When he reached the end, he gave a heavy sigh and rested his forehead against Molly's breastbone, gathering himself.

"Caleb?" Molly found his breath again, and the question came out nearly silent.

"I love you," Caleb said; when his eyes met Molly's, burning up at him in vivid blue even in the dimness of the room, the promise within them rang loud and clear.

_ I will protect you. I will never lose you again. _

"I know,  _ macushla _ ," Molly replied, raising a hand to touch Caleb's hair. Instead, Caleb caught it and brought it, wrist up, to his lips. He whispered promises and secrets against the pulse that thrummed just below the skin, finishing with an oh-so-soft scrape of teeth, a different kind of promise, for later.

"Now," he said, low and dangerous, "Let us continue."

His hands resumed their place on Molly's back and belly, though the latter now skimmed downward over the sensitive junction of leg and hip where Molly was ticklish. When Molly's breath caught, Caleb nibbled along the strip of skin, never enough to nip, or mark him, but enough to tease. Only his hand kept Molly from bucking off the bed. 

Molly felt him smile. All he could see was the top of the copper head, hair trailing just behind each kiss, but the sensation was unmistakable. He felt hot breath skim past his own aching cock, so,  _ so  _ close but never close enough, as Caleb continued downward. He nuzzled the inside of each thigh, kissed the sensitive place behind each knee, massaged each calf with hands and even more kisses, then each ankle, ending with a light nibble at the sole of each foot. Molly realized his timing had been deliberate, getting him straight from the hot spring, and he smiled up at Caleb with the thought.

He felt boneless, happy, beloved. He wanted Caleb still, but he also had never been quite so cherished in bed by anyone. Or cherished at all, really. Not like this.

The clink of glass brought him back to himself. Dazed, he blinked up at Caleb, who smiled down at him. "Still with me,  _ Liebchen _ ?"

"Always." Molly wriggled a little to find his legs bracketing Caleb's thighs. A small flash of something in Caleb's hand drew his attention. "What are--"

"You've been so patient," Caleb said, almost offhandedly, studying the faceted glass vial. He turned it to and fro in his fingers, then uncorked it and tipped something fragrant and oily into his palm. "I think we are ready for more,  _ ja _ ?"

Molly's blood heated immediately. "Oh,  _ fuck _ , yes."

Caleb's smile grew wicked, and he leaned down, bracing himself on one arm. Into Molly's ear, he whispered, as before, "Eventually."

He smelled like the oil, like sandalwood and sweet amber.

The hand with the oil cupped just below Molly's cock, barely grazing the balls, and the liquid dripped down to where Caleb oh-so-gently (always so fucking  _ gently _ ) circled his entrance with a lazy swirl of a finger. The oil smoothed the motion and slicked his fingers. Molly tried not to buck against the hand, but it was increasingly difficult. 

Even now, Caleb moved inexorably slowly, that same steady hand that was too firm to tease yet too light to satisfy, until he made some internal decision and pressed a finger in. And even then, it simply slid in, then out, smoothly, carefully, in measured strokes. 

Only when Molly felt tears of frustration prick at the corners of his eyes did Caleb finally add another finger, whispering sweet and filthy things into Molly's ear as he did so in his breathy Zemnian accent, each word shockingly even and matter-of-fact.  _ I am going to fuck you, beloved, sweet Mollymauk, you are so beautiful, I will take you apart, you are mine, mine, mine. _

Somewhere along the way, Caleb added a third finger, so smoothly Molly  _ hadn't noticed _ until his brain finally sensed something more inside him, and now all Molly could do was feel. He dug his claws into the sheets, deep into the featherbed and panted Caleb's name like a mantra. The scent of the oil mingled with his sweat, with Caleb's, and it even lingered in the air in Molly's lungs. 

The loss of Caleb's hand made him shudder and whine. He may have pleaded for it back, the fullness that he missed already. Then he heard the sound of the bottle, the thick trickle of the oil again, and finally,  _ finally! _ \--it wasn't Caleb's fingers pressing into him, but the head of that beautiful cock that Molly had been waiting for, imagining, dreaming about. 

And even this, even this moment, the part where Molly expected the floodgates to open, even now Caleb took his time. Even now, he eased himself in, kissed away each hitched breath that Molly gave, moving just a little deeper and withdrawing and softly thrusting in until he was as deep as he could be.

When he began to move, it was--like everything else--soft and smooth, rolling, like a quiet surf against the shore. Molly sighed with every slide inward, at that exquisite fullness. Caleb set a slow pace, and though Molly could handle more, in his pleasure-haze, he finally understood what Caleb had meant by  _ restraint _ . 

Caleb kissed him, languid and sweet, all while he rocked into Molly, their bodies pressed together and wound around each other. His hands wove into Molly's damp hair, cupped his face. He murmured more promises against Molly's lips, encouragements, and praise.

Molly lost the ability to speak coherent words, lost within sweet sensation. His body surged with Caleb's, no longer hurried, making love instead of simply fucking. The latter was always lovely, of course, but the former...Molly's hand found Caleb's and intertwined their fingers together. 

"G-gods," he said into Caleb's skin, barely able to form thoughts, but he had to tell him this. It was vital that he let him know how much he felt, how much he loved Caleb. "Nngh, Cay--ah,  _ Caleb… _ "

" _ I--ah, Mollymauk _ ,  _ scheiße _ ." Only now that he tried to speak was it obvious that even his restraint was being tested. "I love you, too."

"Please," Molly begged, not quite sure how to articulate what he was begging for. His mind fuzzed into the edges of delirium.

Caleb understood. He brought their joined hands between them to wrap around Molly's heretofore untouched cock. Caleb held it while Molly guided him, and for the first time since they started, Caleb began to move faster, in time with the strokes of Molly's length.

"Come,  _ Liebe _ ," panted Caleb, and that was all Molly needed. His back arched, a strangled cry wringing itself from his throat, all the quietly banked passion now rushing to the fore. He felt the hot, wet splash of his release across his belly, and as he gulped for air, he felt an answering heat inside him. Caleb groaned into his mouth as he came, and Molly swallowed the sounds as his lover gave a few final, stuttering strokes. 

They laid together for uncounted minutes, unable to do anything but breathe in the other and wait for the ability to move to return to their limbs. At some point, Caleb withdrew with a light hiss of discomfort but a grin nonetheless. They both laughed weakly. Caleb flopped to the side and gathered Molly into his arms, uncaring of their mess, and placed a kiss on the top of Molly's head.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Molly snorted a laugh.

"I doubt I'll be able to walk for a few days," he replied. "Gods, Caleb. Fuck. Where were you hiding that?"

Caleb only hummed and snuggled closer. He found a good angle to cradle Molly close without his horns in the way.

"Um, darling, we're sticky…"

"Can't move. Oh, but…" Caleb weakly raised his hand, flicked his fingers over the two of them, and muttered the words to cast Prestidigitation. "Better?"

"Much. Bath later, though."

"Mmph." Caleb nuzzled his hair. "Tomorrow."

Molly had to admit, curled within arms that quaked with exhaustion that matched his own, tomorrow sounded just fine. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Chai_Teafling and DottoraQN for helping me make this chapter the best it could be! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please do let me know if there's something you like. I haven't written anything in a couple of years, but this fandom drew me back in. Feel free to @ me on Tumblr as whatisthisidefk. <3
> 
> Also, titles are from "Come Again" by John Dowland, a 16th-century air that you have probably heard at every Ren Faire ever.


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